Page 34

Eleven

King Adrien may have been a generous man, but he likely wasn’t pleased to hear that one of the grooms in the biggest wedding of the season had fled the altar.

A crowd of witnesses didn’t make an escape any easier, and Charon had to lift Yves over a fence to escape the curious spectators.

They took lodgings at an inn under Sabre and Laurent’s names, and the moment they were safely inside the best room at the inn, Yves leaned against the door and laughed.

“We have made a mess,” he said. “Do you think any of them will forgive us?”

“Eventually,” Charon said, collapsing on a chair. The adrenaline that had urged him forward for the past few days was gone, leaving his limbs sluggish and his mind drifting. “You look beautiful in that suit.”

“The suit is in tatters, Charon,” Yves said, with a warm smile. It faded slightly as he took in Charon’s slumped posture in the chair. “Are you all right?”

“Only a little tired,” Charon managed to say. “Went from Red Harbor to Duciel in three—no, four days.”

“You…you were in Red Harbor? But it’s on fire!”

“Parts of it.” Charon started easing out of his boots, and Yves knelt to pull them off. “You were worried about the people trapped there. I thought I would check.”

“Right. And that wasn’t you being self-destructive either.” Yves tugged on Charon’s other boot. “But it takes a week to get here from the harbor. When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

“Must have at some point,” Charon said.

Yves stood, his sodden wedding suit sloshing a little as he moved. “Wait right here.”

Charon didn’t think he could trust himself to move even if he tried.

He must have fallen asleep shortly after Yves left the room, because he had dim flickers of consciousness amid the dark, comforting warmth of sleep.

He had a faint recollection of Yves in his lap with a blanket and a tray of fruit, Yves leading him to a bath that was too small for both of them, a bed covered in thick woolen blankets, and Yves wrapped around him as night fell over Duciel.

When he woke at last, the sky outside the window was still dark, and the fire had gone out in the hearth. Yves was sprawled over Charon with a golden diadem wound in his hair, and Charon reached over to ease it loose. Yves lazily swatted his hand away and opened his lovely green eyes.

“I didn’t get married today,” Yves said. He sounded inordinately pleased with himself.

“No.” Charon tipped Yves’ chin up and kissed him softly. “You did not.”

Yves rolled onto his back and stretched like a housecat in a sunbeam. “And you love me.”

Charon moved over him, his shadow falling over Yves’ lithe, naked body, and Yves gave an exaggerated shiver. “Yes, I love you.”

“Even when I’m being a brat?” Yves asked. “Because I can’t afford to stay out of practice. I’ll probably test you now and then, just in case.”

“I can handle you well enough,” Charon said.

“No, you can’t.” Yves arched his back and kissed Charon’s cheek. “You’re devoted to me. You adore me. You’ll do anything for me.”

Charon smiled. For all that Yves was speaking in the smug, indulgent tones of a courtesan about to be properly ravished, he could sense the need in Yves’ voice.

“But you’ll submit first,” Charon said. He pushed Yves up the bed and propped Yves’ legs on his shoulders.

“Because you’re devoted to me.” He bent down, folding Yves almost in half, and Yves gasped ever so faintly as Charon’s cock brushed against him.

“You adore me. You’ll do anything for me. ”

“I paid for oil for the bath,” Yves said quickly, and Charon almost laughed as Yves scrambled to reach the bedside table and remain pinned under Charon at the same time.

“Good boy,” Charon said, and opened the drawer for him.

“Who says I’m good?” Yves sounded almost offended.

“I do. Because that’s what you’ll be tonight. You’ll be so good that it will ruin your reputation as a brat.”

When Charon started to slick his fingers with the oil, Yves shook his head. “I don’t need your fingers.”

“You’re certain?”

“Charon.” Yves glared up at him. “I have wanted you to take me apart on your cock for years, and I’ll be damned if I wait a moment longer.”

“We’ll have time,” Charon said, grinding against him just to make Yves moan in frustration. “Perhaps I should take it slow. Ease you in.”

“ Charon, ” Yves said, so pathetically that Charon laughed. “I’m suffering and you’re doing nothing to help me.”

“No man has died for want of a cock, Yves.”

Yves’ eyes flashed. “Watch me.”

Charon had to admit that he didn’t have much patience himself.

He kissed Yves again, bracing himself over Yves in the way he knew he liked, thrilling in how perfectly they fit together.

When he eased his hard, aching cock into Yves, Yves sucked in a loud, shuddering breath that made Charon smile and run a hand over his brow.

“I’m not… It’s not too much,” Yves said. “It’s just big.” He ran his hands up Charon’s arms, stroking his biceps. “Fuck, you’re so big, Charon. Have I ever mentioned how fucking big you are?”

“Nearly every day for years,” Charon said, and felt Yves give beneath him, almost too tight for comfort at first but eager and hot. Charon thrust deeper, and Yves fell back again so Charon could bend over him. “Good. You’re being so good.”

“Tell no one,” Yves gasped, and groaned when Charon thrust the rest of the way inside him. “Please do that again. Please, Charon, I’ll do anything, I’ll even go camping in Lukos for you, just keep doing that.”

Charon fucked into him harder, and Yves’ lips parted involuntarily, his gaze fixed on some distant vision through the ceiling. Charon tapped his chin. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” Yves said. “Not when you’re—ah—when you’re on top of me like this, when your weight…”

Charon pressed his body closer to Yves’, trapping him further, and Yves let out a shuddering gasp that held no artifice or exaggeration. “A brat who likes being overpowered?”

“Don’t make me form words, Charon,” Yves begged, and Charon kissed him soundly.

He thrust into Yves hard, making the bed shake and the frame rattle against the wall, and he watched Yves’ eyes go hazy as he slipped under into subspace.

Charon wasn’t surprised that Yves favored a rough touch.

He was so careful to keep his clients within their assigned roles, never venturing past the point of a bratty pet and their rich benefactor.

The real Yves—the one who had grown up on a farm with too many siblings to care for and an ardent yearning for more—wanted this, love without teasing or taunting, overwhelming and powerful.

He trusted Charon to not go too far, to be gentle when necessary, but still be himself.

Charon fucked Yves until the bedframe cracked the wall and lodged there, and the floor trembled and the mirror by the door almost swung off its hook. Yves came then, squinting his eyes shut and groaning low and plaintive, and Charon kissed his brow and slowed despite his own building desire.

“Keep going,” Yves whispered, and tried to grind down on Charon’s cock. “Please.”

“Show me how you fuck yourself, then,” Charon said, and Yves did it without question, bracing himself on the headboard. He was using his own body to get Charon off, his legs trembling, perfectly obedient. “Good. That’s good, Yves.”

Charon came inside Yves with a shudder of his own, and he held Yves through it as Yves’ body went limp with exhaustion and relief. When he pulled out, Yves raised his hands as though to draw Charon back again.

“Let me take care of you,” Charon said, and Yves looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Don’t have to ask,” he said.

Charon bent to kiss him one more time and rose from the bed.

He had left his best tea kettle with Laurent, but there was a serviceable one by the hearth, and Yves had left the rest of the food he’d acquired from the kitchens under a tin bowl.

Charon fetched water and a cloth for Yves, but he let his hands wander as he ran the cloth up his legs and along his inner thighs.

Yves submitted to it with a pleased smile, and he watched Charon as he stood to prepare a plate of fruit and stoke the fire.

They ate together on the floor before the fireplace, with Yves in Charon’s lap and the kettle steaming on a hook over the fire.

“I could keep doing this, you know,” Yves said. “Staying in inns, traveling. Running from disappointed kings.”

“Let’s avoid the last one,” Charon said.

“Well, there are only so many kings in this world.” Yves leaned his head against Charon’s shoulder. “You’ll have to get used to luxury on the road, though. I’ll need a carriage, which means a carriage driver, and horses…”

“A carriage, but we drive it ourselves.”

“But if there’s an inn, we use it.” Yves stretched his legs and settled back in Charon’s lap. “There are enough diamonds on that wedding suit alone to get us to Gerakia without dipping into our private funds.”

“Did the king give you that suit?” Charon asked, twisting to look at the strips of cloth and diamonds draped over a chair. Yves waved a hand at them idly.

“He didn’t say I couldn’t keep it,” he said. “We should probably grab my things and leave early so he doesn’t have the time to ask.”

“You don’t mind coming with me?” Charon had been worried about this.

Yves was a creature of habit. He loved Duciel, with its operas, gardens, cafes, and even the courtesans who only saw Yves as competition.

King Adrien would forgive Yves for the disastrous wedding if he wanted to stay.

“We’ll be traveling through the countryside for much of it. ”

“Yes, but so long as it isn’t my countryside, I don’t mind.” Yves turned in Charon’s lap and kissed him. “You’ve been talking about these places ever since I first met you. I won’t complain about the occasional tent or farm if you’re there.”

“Thank you,” Charon said. “Traveling Iperios wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Of course it wouldn’t,” Yves said. He got to his feet, naked and lovely in the firelight, and gathered the diamond suit in his arms. “So we might as well get started.”