Quincy
And by earth and sky, he was not looking forward to that.
It was the only way the sacrifice made any sense, truly, if in turn he got to love someone as absolutely and without limits as he had always craved. At least until they grew older, but... He did not want to think of that, or of the fate that could await the child of the Earl of Saran.
The future was always uncertain, and he would not waste this unexpected gift on fear.
The warmth of Valgar’s pleasure hit him a moment later, right before he heard his alpha crossing the threshold from the large sitting room that they all shared now. He turned his head, smiling at his partner.
“Good morning?” the earl asked, dropping a kiss high on his cheekbone.
Quincy hissed at the touch of his chilly skin. “You could say that, at least I have been inside. What on earth could you possibly need to be doing outside in midwinter?”
Valgar laughed. “I went for a ride, it’s refreshing.”
“More like you are avoiding the books,” Mar called from the bedroom. She came out and got an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth, which Quincy watched with some longing.
She caught him looking and laughed, then approached and stood close until Quincy lifted a hand in invitation and she leaned in and licked into his mouth, just a short kiss but enough to warm him up.
She tasted of Valgar a little, too, and when she stood, she ordered, “Val, go order some tea, our lord Quincy needs a proper greeting from you without your freezing hands.”
“Give me a few years before I get used to this inhospitable weather,” Quincy told them both, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I’m sure the baby has stolen all my protective fat.”
Valgar rang the bell, then plopped on the armchair in front of him and snorted, his violet eyes sparkling, his white hair in disarray. Quincy couldn’t understand why his mate would want to ride in the cold, but it certainly left him beautifully mussed.
“The way our lady has been feeding you?” his alpha asked, eyebrows raised. “Maybe if you are carrying triplets.”
Quincy glared at him. “Do not even jest.”
Valgar raised his hands, and a servant walked in with the tea and saved the moment.
Tea—and cakes—consumed, Quincy ended up laying down with his head on Mar’s lap, Valgar sitting on the rug at their feet.
“We need a bigger couch,” Mar decreed with no particular urgency, her fingers travelling slowly through Quincy’s short hair.
He’d had it cut. It had occurred to him that for the first time in his life, he didn’t need to be decorative, and it made this kind of touch all the easier, too. He arched his neck, groaning a little.
Then Valgar took his right foot in hand and started digging his thumbs in. It did not take them long to have him in a puddle of sensation. He was half hard, too, which he didn’t need to do anything about but felt good, a quiet fire within to match the one without.
“Bed?” Their lady suggested, hands pausing on his neck, and Quincy sighed and nodded a little.
Getting up was getting harder each day, but with Mar supporting his back and Valgar taking his hands, he managed well enough.
And perhaps he was carrying extra weight, but he was not carrying it alone.