The Only Option

by Megan Derr

  Rochus snorted at that, but didn't reply except to adjust his legs as Tilo withdrew his fingers and slicked his cock. He settled between Rochus's thighs and lined up his cock, then braced himself and slowly pushed in. Rochus pulled him close, dragged his tongue across Tilo's hot, sweaty skin. “Are you a kit or a dragon? Show me what you can do.”

  Tilo's eyes burned and he growled softly before obeying, pulling out and thrusting back in, making Rochus gasp. “Better, magus?”

  “Better, but room for—” Rochus stuttered a broken groan as Tilo slammed into him again, sinking as deep as it was possible to go, hot and hard and the best thing Rochus had felt in more years than he cared to count. He held fast as Tilo continued with the hard, driving pace. If this was how dragons plundered, he was definitely all for it.

  At least as long as he didn't think about anything else for too long. But thought was easy to surrender as Rochus happily lost himself in heat and movement and gasping demands for more, until Tilo pounded into him one last time and came with a hoarse cry, fingers gripping so tightly they'd probably leave bruises in Rochus's skin.

  Rochus followed a moment later, dragging Tilo close for a wet, sloppy kiss.

  They lay in a sweaty heap for several minutes, Rochus in no hurry to be deprived of the warm weight draped across him. Eventually, though, Tilo's weight began to outstrip the warmth, and Rochus finally nudged him. “Come on, as much I would love to lie abed all day, there is work to be done. We have the last bone wyvern to get rid of and then I have to go hunt a necromancer while you put your territory back in order.”

  Tilo grumbled but obediently sat up, folding his legs in front of him as he stared at Rochus. “I don't even know where to start.”

  “You start with Her Majesty. Well, no, you take the paperwork you are going to gather and the letter and reports I am going to write to my uncle and he will arrange an emergency petition to the queen. Then you will tell her everything that has transpired over the past several months. It will probably take several months more to bring the matter firmly to a close, but it will finally be done. You'll not only have your people back, but a good deal more wealth—and you'll never again be in a position where you're forced to desperate straits to save them.”

  Tilo opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut.

  “What?” Rochus asked.

  “Nothing,” Tilo said and turned to climb out of bed. He retrieved his pants and pulled them back on as he said, “I'll get dressed and meet you downstairs.”

  He was gone before Rochus could reply. What was that all about? Rochus shook his head. It didn't matter. A few more days and he would be gone hunting the necromancer, and after that he'd be able to head home and put this whole damned mess behind him. Tilo could concentrate on his home and the life he should be living.

  Somehow the thought wasn't as cheering as it should have been.

  Chapter Six

  It took him two months to hunt down and kill the rogue necromancer. He hadn't planned on killing the bastard unless absolutely necessary, but one month into the search, a kill order was delivered via royal falcon, alongside a letter from his uncle confirming Rochus's suspicions that Hoffman was behind it all. He'd gotten further confirmation by way of the necromancer right before he'd followed orders and killed the man. Rochus took no pleasure in killing, but he didn't mind adding the foul necromancer's spirit to his collection.

  One month after that, he finally returned to home. The annulment papers came two months later, waiting on his desk when he came home from a trip to the town a few days away for supplies. The thick packet sat on top of a stack of correspondence he nearly pitched into the fire in a fit of temper. Instead, he'd made himself to go bed, and had taken a tonic to ensure he stayed there.

  In the morning, he carefully went through every last bit of correspondence before finally facing the annulment papers.

  He didn't know why he was so upset. It was exactly what he'd asked for, and Tilo hardly had reason to cling to their farce of a marriage.

  Not that he'd know if Tilo felt otherwise; the only word he'd had regarding Tilo since leaving Rothenberg had been whatever his uncle bothered to mention in his letters, and that amounted to very little. Rochus had tried to keep in touch, however pathetic that made him, had sent letters to Tilo whenever he sent reports back to his uncle. The reports received replies. The letters had not. He supposed that was really all there was to say on the matter.

  Rochus sent the signed papers out and concentrated on his work, which thankfully turned busier than usual and kept him away from the tower for another three months. Kept him so busy, in fact, he barely had time to notice when the marriage marks faded from his fingers.

  By the time he'd returned home again, he'd almost managed to stop thinking about Tilo and wishing there could have been something more than lust between them.

  A cool, early autumn breeze drifted through the tower as he settled in his reading room to enjoy a well-earned lazy afternoon. He stretched out on his favorite settee, a book in his hand, a small glass of blood wine at his elbow, and Memory purring at his feet.

  Any other day, he would have been happy and relaxed with such an arrangement. Hopefully he would be again soon, and for the present, the book would ideally prove a suitable distraction.

  “Magus…” The soft voice of Anel, his housekeeper, drew Rochus's attention. She dipped her head in apology. “I know you weren't to be disturbed, but a strange package arrived with today's post and I thought you'd prefer to see it as soon as possible.”

  “As always, you're correct,” Rochus said with a smile. “Bring it along.”

  She smiled in reply, then dipped a hasty curtsy before slipping away. A couple of minutes later, she returned, followed by a footman carrying a large, heavy-looking chest. They faded off when he dismissed them, and Rochus stared, confounded, at the large wooden chest sitting in the middle of his reading room.

  There was a note affixed to the top, his name written in dark purple ink on expensive, cream colored paper. He broke the wax seal and read the brief message inside: A gift of courting that hopefully proves my suit is in earnest.

  It wasn't signed, but it also wasn't hard to guess, though believing was something else entirely. Gift of courting, was he serious? Just who was the old man here, honestly? Rochus set the note beside him on the floor as he knelt to undo the buckles and flip the trunk open.

  Three small casks were nestled inside, stamped with the marks of an expensive winery—one that produced blood wine. A small roll of paper was tucked in the back. Rochus pulled it out and read about the wines enclosed. One was much like the cask he already had, the other two were new vintages ready only in the last year: one with a dragon blood base, another with a faerie blood base. He hadn't known either of those was possible. Excitement and affection rushed through him, and Rochus wished more than anything that Tilo was there so he could express his gratitude.

  But courting gift? Really? If he wasn't entirely indifferent to Rochus after all, why ignore his letters? Why say nothing for months except to keep his promise regarding the annulment? Then suddenly this.

  No name, though, so he wasn't quite willing to send a note demanding Tilo explain himself.

  Rochus called for Anel, bid her see the casks were stored—and the dragon blood one opened.

  When he finally tasted it, he both loved and hated it. Everything that reminded him of Tilo was in there, along with the flavors of things he'd not tasted for decades. He was tempted to keep drinking, but he also wanted it to last as long as possible, so once the half-carafe Anel had brought him was gone, Rochus made himself stop for the day.

  Try as he might, though, he could not return to his book. The taste of dragon blood lingered, and the note crinkled in his pocket. Curiosity and frustration gnawed at him, and with a soft curse, he finally gave up any attempt at reading and decided to go for a ride.

  The next gift came three days later, just as he was beginning to shrug it all off as some sort of jest.
It was a velvet box, the kind intended for jewels, large enough it must contain a necklace. He opened the note affixed to it. Took me longer than expected to get them back, but I was determined. The first time I saw you I thought of them.

  Rochus frowned, half-afraid to open the box, but he was a grown man and jewels weren't going to hurt him, even if he never felt entirely comfortable wearing them. He flipped the catch and pushed the lid open, and then simply stared.

  He thought for a moment they were onyx or black diamonds, but they were sapphires so dark they looked black except where the light struck and drew out the blue. They were oval cut, with delicate black pearls set between them and forming the rest of the necklace.

  A beautiful necklace, and it was going to stay exactly where it was because who was he going to impress wearing it? His lazy cat? His housekeeper? Rochus snapped the case shut and gave it to Anel to put in the vault with the rest of his jewelry and other valuables.

  Another three days passed before he got the next gift, which proved to be a beautiful new saddle and matching bags, made of black leather and stitched with flowers and birds. “Idiot,” he muttered as he traced the impressive stitching. “The third gift is supposed to be given in person.” Memory meowed from the settee. “Be quiet.” Where was the note? The last two had come with notes.

  He checked the box it had all come in, then searched the saddlebags and at last found it.

  I wish I could have come, but matters are keeping me here a little longer.

  “Hmph.” Rochus called Anel and had her fetch someone to take the bags to his room and the saddle to the stable.

  The next three days passed with agonizing slowness, but produced a small black box and a note that said only: As much as I enjoy the thoughts these inspire, the actions will be far better. Rochus narrowed his eyes and almost put the box away without opening it. But Tilo had his hooks in, damn him, and Rochus finally surrendered to curiosity.

  A pretty vial made of red glass held bedroom oil that smelled like night jasmine. There was also soft but strong silk cord and a ring most definitely not meant for a finger. Rochus lifted his eyes to the ceiling, surprised only that Tilo hadn't given such a gift sooner. He shut the box and stored it beneath his bed, but unfortunately out of sight was not out of mind and there were plenty of inspired thoughts to help exhaust him enough to sleep.

  Three days later, he wasn't sure whether he should be excited or afraid of the latest gift.

  The note attached to the gift said only: Enjoy. Rochus opened it, then buried his face in one hand, slamming the box shut with the other before Anel showed up and saw the gleaming artificial phallus within. The mortification that wound through him did nothing to dampen the heat, and despite his best efforts to resist, Rochus ended the night doing exactly as the note had bid, finally falling asleep messy, sated, and hopeful he'd soon see his mischievous little dragon.

  Three days later, he was ready to scream, especially when the post had come and gone and there was no new gift. Had something happened? Was Tilo all right? Rochus waited and waited, and finally took himself off to his study to do some work after he snapped at Anel twice.

  He'd finally started to get somewhere with his accounting when a sharp rap came at the door. “Yes?” he asked.

  Anel's mouth was quirked in a little smile. “Someone to see you, magus.”

  Rochus's heart began to pound in his chest. “Send them to my reading room. Thank you, Anel.”

  “Yes, magus.” She curtsied and slipped away, and Rochus hastened out of his study and up the curving stairs along the edge of the whole tower to his reading room that took up half the fourth floor.

  He ran fingers through his hair, then made a face at himself and dropped his hands, going to the window to stare at the rapidly falling dark. Soft footsteps drew his attention, and all the words he'd been planning and mentally reciting over the past weeks fell away.

  If he'd thought Tilo beautiful before, it was nothing compared to seeing him healthy and happy—and dressed like a dragon in a costly green velvet jacket decorated with gold and silver and pearls, more jewels at his fingers, wrists, ears, throat, and even his waist. There was also a small emerald stud in his nose. “You've gotten sparkly, kit,” Rochus said, voice softer than he'd meant.

  Tilo grinned, pleased and proud. “Bought a lot of it with the money owed me from fines levied by Her Majesty. She likes fining people, doesn't she?”

  “It's her second favorite hobby,” Rochus said, then cleared his throat and crossed the room as Tilo did the same. They met in the middle. “What are you doing here? Certainly such a handsome, affluent dragon has better options for courting.”

  “Shut up, magus,” Tilo said, then removed Rochus's spectacles, yanked him close and kissed him soundly.

  Rochus had thought he'd known just how much he missed Tilo, but it wasn't until he had Tilo pressed up against him, warm and sweet and achingly familiar, that he realized it ran far deeper than he'd ever realized. He held Tilo tightly, crushing them together, and kissed him back like his life depended on it.

  Tilo shuddered, moaned, fingers almost painfully tight in Rochus's hair. Every time Rochus tried to pull away, Tilo chased his mouth and resumed the kissing. He stopped only when Rochus got a hand between them, though he promptly started sucking on Rochus's fingers instead.

  “You're a brat,” Rochus said. “Why all the gifts? I would have been perfectly happy simply to have a reply to my letters.”

  Tilo's cheeks turned pink. “I was too scared to read them at first. Your uncle gave them to me, and I put them on my desk to read when I was feeling braver, but then there was so much to do and I was never in my room except to sleep… They got buried and I was worried about so many other things… By the time I remembered them, it felt like it was too late. I read them anyway and realized…” He drifted off, stared at Rochus's chest, fingers tightly gripping his shirt.

  “Realized what?”

  “I thought you didn't really much like me except when we were in bed,” Tilo said. “You were so cold after that last time, and went straight back to business, like maybe the fun was over and it was time to move on. So I tried to act the same. I was afraid your letters would just be more business, more indifference… When I realized they weren't like that at all, I was miserable because I'd accidentally thrown away the chance I'd been hoping for all along.” He seemed to droop. “I was sure you definitely hated me by that point, but I wanted to try… did you not like the gifts?”

  Rochus brushed a thumb over Tilo's well-kissed lips. “How could I possibly dislike them? And I'm sorry, I never meant to give the impression of indifference. I didn't want to presume or make you feel obligated. You could have the world, Tilo.”

  “So I've been told, lately,” Tilo said, rolling his eyes. He shook his head slightly, then looked at Rochus with an eager smile, his unhappiness vanishing like fog burned away by the sun. “Which gift was your favorite?”

  “The saddlebags,” Rochus replied, just to see if Tilo would pout, which he did. “Did you really think I was going to name one of your inappropriate gifts?”

  “Did you like them?” Tilo asked, eyes going hot, leaning in close, mouth whispering across Rochus's. “I bought them while I was stuck at the royal castle for months. I'd wander into the city and pick out gifts for people back home. I have an entire trunk of presents for you. It was hard to decide which to send for courting. Oh, except the wine and the sapphires. Those were my first—”

  Rochus kissed him, in that slow, deep, thorough way that left Tilo shivering against him and too dazed to do anything but stare and ask for more. “Do you really want a boring old necromancer?”

  “You're not boring, and if you don't stop saying you're old I'm going to set you on fire.”

  “No, you won't, because then you'll never learn whether or not I've enjoyed any of your gifts,” Rochus retorted.

  Tilo's eyes turned hot again, voice slightly breathless as he asked, “Did you?”

  “Now
why would I tell you when it's so much more fun to keep you wondering?”

  “That's mean.”

  “So is ignoring me for months and then sending me gift after gift but taking your sweet time coming to see me.”

  Tilo winced. “I tried to make the gifts worthwhile. They were, weren't they?”

  Rochus drew him in and kissed him again, feeling no small amount of smugness at the way it left Tilo clinging and whimpering softly. “What do you think?”

  “I think I've really, really missed you,” Tilo replied and tried to kiss him again.

  “I think you could do with a proper meal, and technically, you owe me a sixth gift. Rude not to show up with one.”

  Tilo's scowl turned into a grin. “I brought it—sort of. The sixth gift is an invitation to come stay with me for a few months in Rothenberg, see it properly and all. I know you have to work and will get called away, and that you prefer your tower, which is beautiful, but I was hoping—” The rest of his words turned into an indistinct jumble as he happily gave up talking in favor of kissing.

  Rochus eventually drew back, but only because kissing was no longer enough. “Come along, my dear kit, I think it's time we take this reunion to more private quarters.”

  “And you'll come to Rothenberg? It can be weeks instead of months, or just days if you really want—”

  “You're quite the talker when you're not half-starved and terrified, aren't you?” Rochus cut in, chuckling when that got him a scowl. “Come on, upstairs.” He took Tilo's hand and led him all the way to the top of the tower, where the entire floor was given over to his bedroom and numerous bookcases filled with all the books he'd bought while he was learning to read and after he'd mastered the skill. There was more to the room, but Rochus ignored all of it in favor of leading Tilo to his enormous bed.

  Tilo immediately saw the red glass bottle Rochus had carelessly left in plain sight. “I knew it.” He turned, grabbed Rochus close, and did one of his damned grab-toss maneuvers. “What else did you use?”