When Girik moved a warm hand down to cup Tas’s ballocks, Tas bit his lip and whimpered before dredging up the strength to tug on Girik’s hair, the best he could manage by way of warning. Girik paused for a moment, making Tas whine in protest, but then he resumed his ministrations, fondling, sucking, licking, and pumping Tas’s cock, and Tas was lost. Only a few short seconds later, Tas bit his lip hard and grunted as pleasure exploded through every nerve in his body. Girik continued to work, extending Tas’s pleasure until it bordered on pain. Then he finally released Tas’s cock, and Tas fell back on the mattress, limp as a wet rag.
“Gods.” It was the best Tas could manage between panted breaths.
He heard a chuckle from somewhere down by his knees, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head to check Girik’s expression. If such relations were always like this, Tas could understand why they were forbidden. He’d never get any work done for wanting to do this all the time.
“Everything okay?” Girik hadn’t moved from his kneeling position between Tas’s thighs, and Tas finally came back into his right mind enough to feel self-conscious.
He sat up and braced his arms across his thighs, covering himself. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”
Girik’s smile was so sweet, Tas’s heart constricted. He found himself wondering what it would be like to see that smile every day. The rush of pleasure still coursing through his veins was making him sentimental. With everything in his life in upheaval and his very existence teetering on the edge of the abyss, he had no right to entertain thoughts like that. He could still put this man and everyone in this village in even more danger than they already were, if he didn’t keep his wits about him.
He cleared his throat and scrambled away from Girik in search of his nightshirt. “We haven’t much time, so we’d best get to the ritual as soon as possible.”
Guilt twinged in his chest when he turned back to find Girik no longer smiling. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t be too brusque. The ritual depended on a connection between them. The wall around his feelings couldn’t be too thick, no matter how hard it might be to walk away later. He closed the distance between them and cupped Girik’s stubbled cheek. “Thank you. I think you were right. I hope I’ll be able to give you in return some small measure of the pleasure you have given me.”
Almost instantly, Girik’s expression softened again. Despite his size and obvious strength—and the suffering he’d endured at the hands of the Brotherhood—the man was clearly tenderhearted.
Quanna protect him and let him always remain so.
Trying on the smirk Girik had given him earlier, Tas cocked an eyebrow and nodded toward the bed. “It’s your turn now, I think. Although I’m afraid I still need to sing, so I won’t quite be able to return the favor.”
Without waiting for a response, Tas gripped Girik’s upper arms and guided him to the edge of the bed. He pushed up on his toes to kiss Girik on the lips, trying to emulate what he’d learned. Girik wrapped his thick arms around Tas and kissed him back with far more skill, and the awkwardness between them slowly melted away.
Tas didn’t even have to make a move toward the man’s belt before Girik bent and tugged off his boots, then stripped out of his trousers and kicked everything to the side. From what little time they’d spent together, Tas got the impression Girik preferred being unclothed. Tas couldn’t blame him. If he looked like that naked, he probably would too.
“You’re so warm,” Tas murmured almost to himself as he ran his hands over the hard planes of Girik’s chest and arms.
“Almost always,” Girik said as he regarded Tas with hooded eyes.
What would it be like to sleep wrapped in that kind of warmth on cold winter nights?
Tas shook his head.
Concentrate.
To stop his mind from wandering, he began to hum. Tasnerek instantly began to glow and vibrate on his chest, responding quicker than Tas remembered ever happening before, as if the stone had been awake all along and was eager for what came next.
If he survived the next few days or weeks, he’d have to take some serious meditation time to study the changes in Tasnerek, but there wasn’t time now. He’d just have to hope and pray the changes he sensed were a good sign and not a bad one.
Taking a cue from what they’d done before, Tas climbed behind Girik on the bed and straddled his backside. Girik surprised him by immediately dropping his head back to rest on Tas’s shoulder. The gesture was so trusting, Tas almost lost the thread of his song, and his heart squeezed.
The energy coming from Girik was stronger this time. It gave Tas hope. Girik had been right—now that he’d released some of his own pent-up need, he could concentrate better on Girik’s, and his touches grew more confident.
Tas took his time teasing Girik’s skin with his fingertips while he nibbled and kissed the side of the man’s neck. Girik writhed in his arms and moaned quietly as the pleasure energy emanating from him grew. Their rapport had to be greater, because Tas hadn’t really done much of anything yet.
Eventually, Girik must have grown impatient, because he grabbed one of Tas’s wandering hands, wrapped it around his thick cock, and held it there. Taking the hint, Tas gripped it tightly and began to stroke. As Girik had done to him earlier, Tas moved his other hand down to fondle Girik’s ballocks. Girik spread his thighs wider and melted into Tas’s embrace. The position was challenging. Girik was a big man to get his arms around, even for someone as tall as Tas. But the sounds the man made and the way his body tensed, arched, and shivered with the waves of his pleasure was worth it. Tenderness welled in Tas’s chest—a tide of wishes, wants, regrets, and fears that threatened to carry him away.
He struggled to maintain his concentration and keep the channel between them open. He wanted to watch Girik’s face. He wanted to savor every panted breath and moan, but he had a duty to fulfill, and he’d be letting Girik down if he didn’t try his hardest not to be selfish.
At last, it seemed Girik couldn’t hold back anymore. He tightened his fist over Tas’s and pumped hard and fast. His entire body tensed as he grunted and shuddered through his release, and Tas shut his eyes tight to maintain enough control that the energy wasn’t wasted. The scent of Girik’s release filled Tas’s nostrils as he continued to hum until Girik stopped trembling and his hand fell away.
Tas cradled him while his breathing returned to normal. They sat like that, still entwined, for a long time. Then Girik pulled away.
“I’m sorry. I’m probably crushing you.”
“I don’t mind.”
When Girik turned to him in surprise, Tas shrugged and smiled shyly. “I haven’t had this much physical contact with anyone in almost twenty years. I’m enjoying it more than I should.”
“In that case, could I rest here a while before I leave?”
He cast a longing glance at Tas’s narrow bed and then back at Tas, his eyes pleading. Tas should say no. Every moment the man was in his room was dangerous for many reasons, not the least of which being they could get caught. But he moved to the far side of the bed, slid under the covers, and lifted them in invitation anyway.
Girik’s smile was radiant, and he settled on his side facing Tas.
“Did it work? Was it enough?” he said around a yawn.
“Yes,” Tas answered without hesitation.
Girik frowned at him sleepily. “That’s what you said last time.”
Smiling sheepishly, Tas amended, “I hope it’s enough. That’s the best I can do.”
Girik pouted, but he seemed to be struggling to stay awake, and eventually he lost the battle and closed his eyes.
Tas had planned to keep vigil. He’d locked the door earlier, but someone could come knocking at any time, and there wasn’t anywhere in the room Girik could hide. He was just too big. But the stresses of the day and everything that had happened between them took their toll, and Tas was out before he knew it.
Chapter Ten
THE BED was uncomfortabl
y narrow. The footboard prevented him from stretching out of the fetal position. And the mattress had been stuffed by someone who clearly didn’t give a damn about any future occupant’s comfort. But Girik would have gladly stayed there all night if he could. Tas was even more beautiful when he slept. The harsh lines of his face eased, and the seemingly permanent V etched between his brows faded from view. He looked very young like this, young and vulnerable.
Girik wished he had time to study that face, to commit every inch of it to memory. Since he never took a lover from the village, and visitors were rare, he had to make strong memories while he could to keep him through the lean times. This winter in particular would be a hard one. Now that his mama wasn’t living in the cabin anymore, he’d have a lot of lonely hours ahead of him, long cold nights he’d have to find some way to fill.
His mother’s face swam before his eyes, and their conversation earlier threatened to burst through the wall he’d put around it, but Girik gritted his teeth and shoved it away.
Tas shifted in his sleep. His arm dropped to the mattress between them, revealing the scarred flesh on Tas’s inner wrist. Every brother bore the brand. The mark was burned into the flesh to symbolically and literally obliterate any family mark the person might have had before, but the average person was rarely granted an opportunity to really look at it. One did not stare at any part of a brother for too long if one knew what was good for them.
Tas didn’t appear to have any family mark beneath the leaping flames of his brand. At least Girik could see no trace of ink anywhere the scars weren’t. Had he been an Unnamed before he was chosen? Had he been too young to receive his family mark before the brothers took him away?
Girik’s chest tightened just thinking about the little boy Tas being ripped from his family and carted off to the cold halls of Blagos Keep. But he wasn’t being fair. He’d never actually seen the capital or the keep. He was judging based on how he’d have felt to be taken from his mama and kept indoors for years, forced into pious study. He shuddered.
Perhaps Tas had been honored to be chosen. Perhaps the brothers had taken Tas from something far worse and given him a future. The Brotherhood was admired almost as much as it was feared, and Tas had seemed genuinely heartbroken to discover a betrayal of his faith in them.
With a sigh of regret that his time with the man would be so short, Girik traced the scarred flesh of Tas’s wrist with a gentle finger. Tas jerked awake instantly, his eyes wide.
“It’s all right. It hasn’t been more than hour. I promise,” Girik whispered.
Tas frowned. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“You know why I can’t afford to be careless.”
Girik smiled. “I’d like to think it was because you trusted me, not because you were careless.”
The V between Tas’s brows smoothed out again as his lips curved wryly. “We hardly know each other.”
“I tend to trust my instincts,” Girik replied with a shrug. “I don’t have to know everything there is to know about you to feel that you are a good man and I can trust you… at least with some things.”
Tas shook his head and his smile widened. “It’s a good thing you weren’t chosen for the Brotherhood. You learn very quickly to be more cautious with your trust at the Keep, or you learn to regret it.”
“And yet you seem torn apart and cast adrift to discover its flaws.”
Girik regretted the words almost the second he said them. Tas withdrew and made as if to get up, but stilled when Girik cupped his jaw. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“No, you’re right,” Tas replied, shaking his head sadly. “I knew we had our flaws, but I believed in our work, so it was easy to overlook them. I thought what we did was right and necessary, for the good of all Rassans. I did what I could to fix the things I didn’t agree with, only to find out I’d put everything I had into improving a process that was rotten at its core. Now I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if I can do anything about it, or even if I should.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”
“Nor should you. You were right about that too. There are more important things happening right now. The rest will still be there after I’ve destroyed the Spawn.”
Girik dropped his gaze to Tas’s wrist again. Tas had turned his hand over when he’d woken, so Girik traced the veins on the back of it with a finger. “Speaking of which, I woke you because I should probably leave soon, and I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
At Tas’s sigh, Girik looked up and met Tas’s all-too-sober expression. “Goodbye, Girik. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Girik dredged up a smile from somewhere, despite his surprisingly heavy heart. “Like I said before, this was no hardship. Believe me. Besides, you may have saved my life by refusing to go through with the ritual as it was, so really, I should be thanking you.”
The V between Tas’s brows reappeared in full force as he jutted out his pointed chin. “I wouldn’t have killed you. I’m—I was very good at my work. I haven’t caused the death of a single Offering, not even indirectly, ever.”
Girik shrugged. “There’s always a first. I could have caught a fever from the strain. Even the slightest of wounds can fester and kill a man.”
Tas scoffed. “Surely the village wouldn’t have allowed that. You would have been taken care of after we left.”
“Maybe. But my bargain was for them to take care of my mama, not me.”
Tas’s expression softened, his offended pride seemingly forgotten. “Is that why you did it? For your mother?”
“Aye. She’s very ill, and I can’t take care of her anymore, not on my own at least. The village will, now.”
Tas bit his lip. “If I can…. If… if all goes well tomorrow, I’ll try to visit your mother before we leave and see what I can do.”
Girik gave him a smile despite the pain in his chest. “It’s the lung sickness. They told me there’s nothing the healing hymn can do for that except prolong her suffering.”
Tas’s sad eyes and reluctant nod still hurt, even if logic had told him to expect them. They gazed at each other in silence until an owl hooted somewhere out in the darkness, breaking the spell.
“You should go,” Tas said gently.
Girik chose to believe he heard a hint of regret in Tas’s voice. He reached out to trace the backs of his fingers down Tas’s cheek, and Tas didn’t pull away. Before he could be tempted to stay any longer, Girik blew out a gusty sigh and rolled off the bed. Tugging on his trousers, shirt, and boots took no time at all, and then he didn’t have any excuse.
Tas had followed him out of bed and stood in the center of the room, his expression somber and maybe just a little sad.
At the window, Girik paused and turned to face him again. “Can I ask one last thing?”
“What?”
“A kiss before I go?”
Tas blinked at him, and then his lips curled slightly. “All right.”
Tas was the first to move. He stepped in close and raised himself on his toes, and Girik smiled and dragged the man to his chest. He gave Tas as thorough a kiss as he knew how, only pulling back when they both needed air. Then Girik turned and headed for the window before he could change his mind.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured as he grabbed the sill and lowered himself to dangle out the window.
“Wait!” Tas hissed.
When Girik looked up, Tas glared down at him. “I won’t see you tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the Hunt. You’ll be home recuperating from the ritual.”
Girik grinned and winked at him before dropping to the ground. Thanks to his height and the length of his arms, he only had a few feet to fall. And before Tas could figure out how to yell after him without rousing the house, Girik trotted toward the shadows where he’d left Bayor.
He was still smiling when he reached the edge of the village, but sobered
quickly when confronted with the deep blackness beyond the tree line. He couldn’t afford to be careless either, even if Bayor would likely sense any danger long before he did. A Spawn still lurked out in the darkness somewhere.
Back at his cabin, he stripped out of his clothes again and flopped onto his bed. He should wash but liked to think he could still smell Tas on his skin and wasn’t willing to give that up yet.
Bayor grumbled a bit, most likely confused by their odd nighttime adventures. But when Girik didn’t respond, the hound huffed, circled a few times, and then settled onto the rug nearby. Girik stretched and toyed with the rumpled blankets at his side as he stared up into the landscape of light and shadow the moonlight painted among the eaves. He’d made sure to build a bed long enough to accommodate his large frame, but it could have easily fit another person. The mattress was thick and soft, and he could almost feel Tas’s lean body stretched out next to him.
If only that were possible.
He wasn’t one for big dreams, wishes, and prayers. He’d worked hard for everything he’d ever had, and he never expected that to change. If the gods had listened to his childhood prayers, they’d never answered, so he’d stopped praying. When his mama had fallen ill, he’d tried once more—he would have done anything they’d asked of him—but those pleas and promises had gone unanswered as well.
Gifts didn’t fall out of the sky, at least not for someone like him. Still, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, a stupid, wistful flicker of hope refused to die completely. The gods had worked miracles before. The stories and songs were full of them, weren’t they?
Why couldn’t they come through just this once? If not for his mama, then for Tas. If anyone deserved their aid, wasn’t it Tas? He’d devoted his whole life to them, after all. He had served them faithfully. Didn’t that mean anything?
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