Prologue #2
“Huh.” Something in the feed? Carried by the animals?
Passed on by the people who tended to them?
What caused red fever in the first place, really?
It might not have a magical root, but Sy was nothing if not a thorough investigator.
“I should talk to our own medics, see if they’ve noticed some kind of rhyme or reason to—oof. ”
All of a sudden, he was drawn forward to sit in Deyvid’s lap, with Deyvid’s arms wrapping around his back and pulling him in until their bodies rested against each other. A flash of desire left Sy breathless as he spread his legs and pressed in even tighter.
“That’s all fascinating, but I believe it’s something best saved for a later time.
” Deyvid’s voice was a low rumble, his blue eyes—blue, not barren gray, not since his soul had returned—intent on Sy’s face as one of his hands slid between their bodies.
He wrapped a loose fist around both of their half-hard cocks and stroked, soft but with intent. “If you feel up for it, that is.”
Sy almost always felt up for it when it came to being with his lovers, but they hadn’t had much time for intimacy since Bee got sick.
He leaned in and captured Deyvid’s mouth in another kiss, open and wet, as Deyvid’s hand moved on them.
The moment was tender and warm, their bodies ramping up slowly for a slow, slick orgasm, but when Deyvid slipped his tongue inside of Sy’s mouth, Sy felt a spike of desire for something different.
“Wait, wait,” he said, pulling back to make the space to speak.
“What, sweetheart?” Deyvid asked, staring up at him with hooded eyes as his hand kept moving. “What do you want? What would make you feel good?”
That was just like Deyvid, always first asking what everyone else wanted. He was rarely comfortable saying exactly what he wanted, especially with Sy, and so Sy had learned to read the cues and find a middle ground that worked well when it was just the two of them.
When Petur was there, of course, all bets were off.
Sy leaned in and pressed his lips close to Deyvid’s ear.
“I want you inside of me,” he whispered, feeling a corresponding ache inside of himself.
He did want that, gods how he wanted it; it had been five days since he’d taken either of them, and all of a sudden, he was breathless for it.
Judging from the way Deyvid’s cock flexed as he inhaled sharply, he wanted it too.
Deyvid nodded. “Stand up, then, and we’ll—”
“No,” Sy said and grinned when he saw Deyvid’s eyebrows rise. “I want you here,” he clarified.
As expected, Deyvid shook his head. “Water is no replacement for slick.”
Sy grabbed one of the small bottles on the table beside the tub.
Time for an experiment. He checked the cap to make sure this was the right one, instead of one of the aromas Petur claimed not to prefer but liberally sprinkled into every single bath he took, then lifted Deyvid’s free hand out of the water and drizzled it down over his fingers.
Deyvid still didn’t look impressed. “Oil isn’t much good when it washes right off.”
“Just try it,” Sy said, putting the bottle back and rising up just enough to give Deyvid room to slip a hand beneath him. Deyvid, bless him, complied, and a second later, his fingers, still coated with a thick layer of slippery oil, pressed against Sy’s opening.
Sy groaned with satisfaction as Deyvid rubbed over his hole, teasing him with one finger before sliding it in a little ways. The new oil worked perfectly; he was glad he’d added the right reagents this time. The last one had given him an awful rash when he tested it on his arm, but this—
Deyvid chuckled. “Did you make magical lube?”
“Not … exactly,” Sy said, losing focus as Deyvid slid a finger all the way inside of him. “Oh please, there, just—” His head fell back as Deyvid pressed against the spot that sent sparks dancing up and down his spine. “Deyvid, oh …”
“Sweetheart.” Deyvid kissed a line across Sy’s chest as he added a second finger. “I missed this.”
“Me too.”
“I can tell,” he said, almost equally breathless but still managing to come off as more controlled thanks to his wry tone of voice. “Otherwise, you’d have the patience for bed.”
Sy doubted that. He’d have let Deyvid jerk both of them off in the bath before he let him stop for anything, even the promise of a thorough fucking in bed.
They’d have to be more careful here, but— “Deyvid,” Sy hissed as the head of his lover’s cock kissed the edge of his hole, nudging up against the fingers that were already there. Holy hells, was he going to—
He didn’t, in the end, just pulled his fingers out and wiped the oil that remained along his cock before he began to enter Sy.
It was still a tight fit, slightly rough, but the hint of pain just made the pleasure even more incredible.
Sy’s mouth dropped open on a moan, and Deyvid kissed him again, thrusting his tongue back inside just as he bottomed out inside of Sy.
Sy’s whole body throbbed with pleasure. The empty space inside of him, the ache, was finally satisfied. He wrapped his arms around Deyvid’s neck and began to slide up and down, staying clenched to prolong the tension growing in his abdomen.
“Baby,” Deyvid panted, and oh, when he called Sy that it meant he was close. Deyvid was always sweet, but that was a word saved for moments when he was close to losing control. He’d barely been inside of Sy for a minute, but Sy didn’t care. Slow could happen later.
“Fuck me,” Sy said, holding himself a little ways up.
“Fuck me, come on.” And Deyvid did it, raising his hips in short, sharp thrusts that hit inside just where Sy needed them.
He moved his slippery hand to Sy’s cock and gripped right up at the head, so Sy’s slightest shifts felt magnified.
That, combined with the slick sensation of the oil and Deyvid’s cock moving so perfectly inside of him, was more than enough to ratchet Sy’s pleasure up, spiraling him higher and higher until he finally clenched down and came in pulse after pulse against Deyvid’s hand.
Deyvid followed right after, burying his face against Sy’s collarbone as he stiffened and spent inside of him.
After the worry and pressure of the past week, release made Sy feel like he was floating on a golden cloud.
Every care was wiped from his mind, and for a long time, he and Deyvid stayed like that, until Deyvid finally softened enough to slip free of him.
Sy pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his lips. “I love you.”
Deyvid smiled up at him, his handsome, hawkish face framed by the few strands of gray that remained in his dark hair these days. “I love you too, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry that was so fast,” Sy added with a bit of a blush.
Deyvid shrugged. “We’ve been too long apart lately. Who could blame us for being eager?” Then he made a face “Other than Petur.”
Ha. Petur liked to tease them, but he was the most demanding of them all in the bedroom. “Always Petur,” Sy agreed, then looked toward the door. “The food must be nearly here. Shall we dress for dinner?”
“If you like.” Deyvid looked him up and down and grinned. “I’m happy to stay undressed, honestly.”
“Let’s not scandalize too many of the new staff yet,” Sy said dryly as he pushed to his feet and reached for the robe hanging from the hooks above the bath oils.
Now that the magic school was nearly complete, Sy had given his majordomo permission to hire and train the staff that would be working there.
That meant plenty of new faces, and unlike the ones who’d known Sy from childhood and were essentially imperturbable when it came to his antics with his spouses, the newcomers could and had been absolutely scandalized by their behavior at times.
He’d be glad when they could be shifted to their new responsibilities with the students full-time.
They both put on the minimum of clothes needed for company, and when the knock at the door came, Deyvid greeted the server with a kind word.
“You can put the trays over there,” he said, pointing at the small, round table with three chairs—well, four if you included Bee’s booster, but that was up against the wall right now.
“Of course, sire.”
“Not sire,” Deyvid corrected their server firmly. “Horsemaster, if you must have a title.”
“Aye, but …” The boy, who couldn’t be more than fourteen, looked between them with confusion. “You’re married to our king, sire.”
“Not exactly.”
Sy came to the rescue. “I’m married to Prince Petur,” he said. “Big man, brown hair, sometimes turns into a raven or wolf.” Or an otter, or his truly terrifying warrior form, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the boy with too much information. “This is Deyvid Windwest, our consort.”
The lad goggled. “Three people in the same bed?”
Goodness, he must be either very new or very forgetful. “Didn’t Mistress Deane give you a proper introduction to the castle?” Sy asked.
“She did, sire, but …” The boy’s face was red with embarrassment now. “I guess I thought he was your husband’s consort.”
“I was at first, but they share me now,” Deyvid said, then sighed dramatically. “It’s a lot of work, balancing the needs of two crowns, but I do what I can to keep them both happy. And who could blame me? Look at your king, isn’t he splendid?”
Sy, wearing an oversized doublet that belonged to Petur and a pair of plain black trousers, scowled at Deyvid.
He was anything but splendid right then.
It didn’t help that the boy was nodding eagerly, probably trying to put his gaffe behind him.
“Thank you for dinner,” Sy said pointedly, and their server left with the alacrity of someone making their escape.