Comforting his Restless Stallion

by Charlie Richards

  “Up to me?” Baron found himself confused.

  Perseus nodded. “It’s easy to see you have an alpha personality. You like getting your way.” He grinned. “When I say it’s up to you, that means it’s up to you to decide to follow my orders.”

  Baron groaned as he listened to Perseus explain what his injuries meant as far as healing time... even with him being a shifter.

  Over a week lying in bed on my stomach?

  That just sucked.

  Chapter Two

  Conchlin hummed to himself as he carefully maneuvered the tray. On it, he balanced a hot mug of chicken broth as well as a cup of coffee, one of tea, a glass of orange juice, and also a glass of sprite. He hadn’t been certain what kind of drinks their relatively new patient would like.

  Having only recently started his apprenticeship under Doctor Perseus and Doctor Cosmo, Conchlin had spent the last several days studying and taking tests. Some of those tests had been on volunteer test subjects—people from the clutch pretending to be patients and him having to figure out their illness from symptoms they claimed to have. So far, the doctors had told Conchlin that he was doing well.

  Conchlin was excited about his new career path. When he’d pulled guard duty on injured humans who were hunters, and had spent time in the infirmary watching the men’s rooms, he’d found what the doctors did fascinating. At almost four hundred years old, Conchlin couldn’t believe he hadn’t discovered his love of medicine earlier.

  He’d been so pleased when Chieftain Maelgwn and the doctors had agreed that, with the continued growth of their clutch, they needed more staff. Having always enjoyed caring for others, he’d jumped at the chance. It gave him the opportunity to express that aspect of himself.

  Conchlin really appreciated that Master Maelgwn and the doctors didn’t hold the fact that he was a smaller gargoyle against him. He knew this clutch was different than others in that respect. In his birth clutch, those that were over six feet with huge wings from their back considered themselves of higher status than smaller gargoyles with wingskins that ran along the base of their arms and along their sides, plus bone-spurs that extended from the sides of their torsos.

  Pushing thoughts of his birth clutch out of his mind—Chieftain Grecian had been a racist prick—Conchlin focused on what he was about to do. Doctor Cosmo was supposed to join him after Conchlin had fed their patient. Under the doc’s supervision, Conchlin would apply the healing ointment to Baron’s stitched up back.

  Conchlin reached the door to Baron’s room and set the tray on the table nearby. He knocked gently, then gripped the knob. After a few seconds, he turned it and pushed the door open.

  Sticking his head through the crack, Conchlin peered around. He spotted the man sprawled on the bed, the dark chocolate skin of his backside on clear display, and sucked in an appreciative breath. Even marred by dozens upon dozens of stitches, Baron’s backside was a thing of beauty—broad and muscled with smooth, dark skin.

  “Is there a reason you all knock but don’t wait for an answer?”

  Hearing the grumpy, growly voice, Conchlin snapped his gaze to Baron’s face. He felt his cheeks heat... and that wasn’t the only thing. His body was responding to the musky fragrance filling the room.

  “Oh!” Conchlin’s heart rate spiked in his chest. He knew his eyes were wide, and his voice came out breathy, but he couldn’t help it. “It’s you!”

  This was the most monumental day of his life!

  “Me?” Baron scowled at him. “Of course it’s me. Who else would be laid up in this goddamned room?” Narrowing his deep brown eyes, he stated, “You’re Conchlin, right? Doctor Perseus said the orange one is Conchlin, his trainee, so am I to be a guinea pig, then?”

  For just an instant, hurt flashed through him. Then Conchlin remembered that Perseus had said Baron had alpha tendencies and sucked as a patient. His man just needed a little care, that was all... and that was something Conchlin could totally do.

  Grinning, Conchlin nodded. “Yep. I’m Conchlin, the trainee,” he responded glibly. That reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing, and he took a couple steps backward so he could grab the platter. Holding it up, he entered the room. “But don’t worry. I’m going to feed you before I use you as a guinea pig.” Setting the tray on the sideboard, he crossed to the bed and rested his clawed hands on the edge so he could lean toward his clearly grumpy mate. “And you’re going to lie back and take it like a man. Ya know why?”

  Baron’s scowl morphed into a glare... for all of two seconds. Then his eyes widened with shock. “You’re my mate!”

  Conchlin grinned broadly. “Got it in one.” Leaning down, he pressed his nose against Baron’s temple and inhaled deeply. “You smell really good,” he whispered huskily. Feeling his plumping prick swiftly extending behind the fabric of his loincloth, he got himself together and straightened. “Sorry.” He felt his face heat. “Um, right, I’m your mate.”

  Taking in the shocked expression on the big male’s face, coupled with his lack of response had unease slithering through Conchlin. “A-Are you not gay or something?”

  That seemed to yank Baron out of... whatever his thoughts were. “I-I’m gay. I just, wow!” His brows furrowed as he swept his gaze over Conchlin’s form, or probably what he could see of it. “I’d never even met a gargoyle before coming here. I—” Baron sucked in a harsh breath, which caused his nostrils to flair and his eyes to dilate. “Do, uh, do you guys bond the same way? Why do you look different than the doctors? When will I even be cleared for sex?”

  Conchlin mentally sorted through Baron’s questions, trying to decide what to answer first. The sound of his shifter’s stomach growling gave him a chance to put it off. He turned back to the sideboard and picked up the wrapped straw and opened it.

  After sticking one end of the straw into the broth, Conchlin returned to the bedside. “This is chicken broth.” He settled in the chair and held the straw close to Baron’s mouth. “After you drink it all, I have a couple options for you to drink to wash it down.”

  “Chicken broth.” Baron growled the words, then winced. “Sorry,” he muttered, then wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked on it.

  Conchlin smiled. “Perseus said you were a shit patient.”

  Baron snorted as he released the straw, swallowing hard enough to cause his Adam’s apple to bob.

  Giggling, Conchlin loved that he’d amused his mate... even it if was sort of at his expense. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, you’re not.” Baron cleared his throat, meeting his gaze. His expression had turned serious. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Conchlin.”

  His brows lifted as Conchlin nodded. “Of course.” Huh. As he watched Baron take the straw back into his mouth, he wondered at the seriousness in the horse shifter’s tone. “Um, is there, uh, is there a story there? Is lying, even a slip of the tongue, a trigger for you in some way?” Seeing Baron’s black brow lift, he added, “I just want to make certain I know how to care for you.” Conchlin’s voice softened. “You’re my mate.”

  Baron released the straw, again. After swallowing, he sighed. “I lived the first one hundred eighty plus years of my life as a lie, Conchlin. I want nothing but the truth from here on out.”

  Conchlin nodded. “Then in the spirit of full disclosure, I’m pretty flamboyant and occasionally flippant. I’ll try to, um, make sure that doesn’t lead me to say anything you’d consider a lie.”

  “I can see plenty of adjustments in our future,” Baron rumbled, his voice soft and deep. Taking the straw back into his mouth, he continued to drink the broth.

  Nodding, Conchlin didn’t know what else to say. Maybe I should answer his questions now. “Gargoyles come in two general variations.” Seeing Baron’s brow lift in question, Conchlin shrugged. “You asked why I looked different than the doctors.”

  Baron grunted.

  Conchlin took that as a sign to continue. “So, there are bigger
gargoyles that have wings that come out of their backs. Some are huge. Have you seen Maelgwn or Vane, yet?”

  The sound of air being sucked along with the fluid through a straw filled the room. Baron released the bit of plastic and licked his lips. He shook his head in response.

  “Perseus said the chieftain was going to visit eventually, but he hasn’t been by, yet.” Baron relaxed on the sheet. “Or maybe I missed him when I was asleep.”

  Nodding, Conchlin checked the broth mug, seeing it empty. “Nice. We have some pretty good chefs here, huh?” He rose, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I have a few different drinks. What would you like to wash it down? Coffee or tea? I also have orange juice and sprite.” He stopped at the sideboard and turned to face Baron. “Preference?”

  Baron sighed, his eyelids sliding to half-mast. “Normally I’d say coffee, black, but I don’t want the caffeine.” His eyes closed, and he mumbled, “I suppose our conversations will have to wait. I don’t think I’m going to be awake for much longer.”

  “That’s okay,” Conchlin murmured, returning to Baron’s side. He retook his position in the chair. Except now that he didn’t have something in his hands, he couldn’t resist the urge to touch. “We’ll have plenty of time to change that. Hundreds of years. I’m only three hundred eighty-six, after all.” As he spoke, Conchlin slid his clawtips over Baron’s jawline, admiring the smooth skin.

  Baron’s right eyelid cracked open a slit. “Doesn’t that mean we’ll have maybe a hundred and fifty years, give or take?”

  Conchlin frowned a second as he redid his math. Nope. Then he realized Baron was thinking in shifter terms. He grinned and shook his head.

  “Oh, right! You don’t know much about gargoyles. Well, we can actually live for a couple millennia. You know. A couple thousand years, give or take, so when we bond, and we bond similar to shifters, but we need to both give and receive to go through molt, then we’ll have hundreds and hundreds of years, so—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Baron mumbled. He reached out and gripped Conchlin’s wrist, squeezing gently. “I can’t—” Baron sighed. “Too much.”

  Realizing he’d overwhelmed his mate with his exuberant prattling, Conchlin nodded. “Sorry. I’ll remind you of all that again,” he assured, resting his free hand on Baron’s. “After you get well.” Smiling brightly, Conchlin roved his gaze over Baron’s naked backside and hummed appreciatively. “Which means I get to touch all your naked flesh.”

  Conchlin knew his voice had taken on a breathy quality, but staring at Baron’s thickly muscled body was a feast for the eyes. “So handsome.”

  Baron growled, drawing Conchlin’s attention to his face. His man scowled, his dark features drawn down with his irritation. “Got a scar fetish, Conchlin?”

  Realizing he must have said something wrong, Conchlin searched for what it could be.

  “Hey, Conchlin. Talking our patient’s ear off?”

  Conchlin snapped his attention toward the doorway upon hearing Cosmo’s teasing words. He grinned broadly, prepared to respond with a quip of his own. To his surprise, he felt Baron’s grip tighten where he held his wrist and heard a growl rumble from the shifter.

  Snapping his gaze back to Baron’s dark, handsome features, Conchlin gaped upon spotting the feral snarl curving his mate’s lips.

  “Watch what you say to my mate, doc,” Baron ordered gruffly. “There ain’t no call for that.”

  “Mate?”

  Conchlin refocused on the doctor.

  Cosmo’s jaw sagged open. His blue-green eyes were wide in his narrow face. He’d even lifted his black wings from his shoulders, betraying his surprise.

  “That’s right,” Baron continued.

  As Conchlin peered back at Baron again, he felt as if he was watching a ping-pong match. Needing to put a stop to that, he squeezed his mate’s hand where he still gripped him. “Easy, Baron,” he soothed, rubbing his hand up and down Baron’s arm. “Cosmo didn’t mean anything by it. He was just teasing.”

  Baron turned his gaze toward Conchlin. His deep brown eyes almost blazed with his irritation. Releasing Conchlin’s wrist, he reached over and wrapped his big hand around Conchlin’s neck instead.

  “No one should talk to you like that, my little gargoyle,” Baron stated, his voice softening. His expression turned appreciative, and Baron rubbed his thumb along Conchlin’s jaw. His features eased further, and he hummed. “Your skin feels so different than... anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  “Is that good?”

  Even as Conchlin whispered the question, his blood heated, and he thrilled at the attention. It sure seemed that Baron was enjoying the feel of his hide. Conchlin definitely liked the way his shifter’s calloused fingertips slid along his prominent jawbone.

  “Yeah.” Baron’s expression grew even more relaxed. His fingers continued to explore, sliding around Conchlin’s neck to tease along his collarbone. “Gonna bite and claim you here.”

  A tremble worked through Conchlin as his cock throbbed painfully inside his loincloth. “Y-Yes, please.”

  “Okay, guys. Sorry to be a cock-blocker, but that will have to wait. You’re in no condition for even giving a claiming bite.”

  Cosmo’s voice broke the spell, and Baron blinked. The shifter swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing. Blowing out a breath, he smiled at Conchlin as he squeezed his shoulder, then released him.

  “Wow, these mating urges are something else.” Baron cleared his throat and relaxed his arm back to the mattress. His nostrils flared, and his gaze dropped to Conchlin’s crotch. “Fuck, pretty gargoyle. I’m sorry to leave you needing.” His hips shifted on the mattress, and a hiss escaped him. “Although, I’m not in much better a state.”

  Cosmo grumbled something under his breath, but Conchlin was too distracted to understand it. Between the smell of his mate’s arousal perfuming the air and the pain in his shaft, he was having a hard time concentrating. Never in all his centuries-long life had he needed to get off so badly.

  “Conchlin, I imagine you still want to be the one to apply Baron’s salve, especially now that you’ve discovered he’s your mate.” Cosmo touched Conchlin’s shoulder, which helped him to focus. “Do you want to step out of the room for a few seconds to calm down?”

  No way was Conchlin going to leave his aroused mate with another man, even a mated one. He rose from his seat and stepped away. “No, just—”

  He crossed to the sideboard, doing his best to ignore his raging erection. Not like he could do anything about it anyway. He grabbed the mug of tea and gulped it down, ignoring the bitterness. Normally he added a dollop of honey to his Earl Grey tea.

  Turning his attention back to Baron, Conchlin offered the beverages again. “Something to drink.” He cleared his throat when he saw that his mate’s hungry focus was on his crotch. When Baron met his gaze, his expression didn’t change, which Conchlin sure appreciated. “A drink?” he asked again.

  Baron cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll take that coffee after all.” Then he rolled his eyes. “Do I have to drink it through a straw, too?”

  Conchlin nodded, giving Baron a commiserating smile. “Yeah, sorry.” He brightened as he picked up the drink and headed back to the bed. “At least it will distract you. And the pain caused by applying the ointment might help ease your arousal.”

  Just the idea of causing pain to his mate certainly did a number on Conchlin’s own erection, making it die a swift death.

  Chapter Three

  Baron’s mind reeled, and his body throbbed... and not from the pain in his back. He could barely string two thoughts together, so when Conchlin handed him the mug of coffee with the straw in it, he took it gratefully. Taking a sip, he hummed in surprise.

  “Good coffee, so I hear,” Conchlin murmured, his green eyes sparkling. “Our head chef, Roman, he doesn’t go cheap on anything.” Chuckling, he winked as he added, “Our clutch’s coffee drinkers love it.”

&n
bsp; Nodding once, Baron smiled. “Thanks.”

  Damn, my mate has a mouth on him. Conchlin is a chatterbox. Is he always like that? Or is it because he’s nervous? Excited?

  The murmur of voices drew Baron out of his thoughts. He heard Cosmo explain proper technique for spreading the cream while minimizing pain. Baron realized he could nearly instantly tell the difference between the doctor’s hands and his mate’s. It was more due to the fact that Conchlin’s touch caused a sizzle of awareness to burn through his blood than from the differences in pressure and how their fingers brushed across his skin. He wanted to push into the small gargoyle’s stroking touch rather than flinch away from it.

  Baron focused on his drink and controlling his body. The bitter brew was one of the best coffees he’d had the pleasure of consuming... that included the occasional coffee shop he’d indulged in. He would have to ask Conchlin what flavor he’d brought him.

  To Baron’s relief, Cosmo and Conchlin finally finished. He’d finished his coffee just a moment before, and he’d again been warring with his desire to press up into his mate’s touch. If he’d done that, Baron knew he’d have immediately thrust down and rutted against the sheet.

  By the gods, my cock hurts. If I were just well enough to grab my mate and hold him under me. We could rut to completion and—

  “Conchlin, I need you to step outside with me for a moment.”

  “What? Why?”

  “To talk to you about Baron’s injuries and his well-being.”

  Hearing Cosmo and Conchlin’s exchange pulled Baron out of his muddled thoughts. He snapped open eyelids he couldn’t remember closing and watched the doctor grip his little orange gargoyle’s shoulder and guide him toward the door. Baron growled irritably, gripping the coffee mug so tightly he heard the glass creak.