Chapter 3 #4
Tasting him made Fifer’s head spin as if he’d swallowed a jug of whiskey, and sent a streak of white-hot longing into his heart.
Yet how could this be happening to him again?
He’d buried his love with Gael. When his cock swelled he finally came to his senses and pushed the lad back, ending the kiss.
Only he used more strength than was necessary, which sent the druid careening back against a drum rack, which fell over.
“My apologies,” he said, righting the rack and reaching for the lad, who skittered out of his reach. “Did I harm you?”
“’Tis but a wrench.” Kiamh winced as he pulled his right arm against his narrow torso, cradling it as if wounded. “You didnae mean to embrace me?”
“’Twasnae my wish, no.” He hated that he had hurt the lad. “I rule here. Every clansman and vassal expect me to lead them. I cannae do thus if I’m dallying with a druid.”
“Of course, my lord. Forgive me.” Fresh tears streaked down the lad’s face. “I meant naught but gratitude.” He turned and ran back into the stronghold as if chased by hounds.
Fifer rubbed his stinging eyes, appalled at his own lack of control.
He should never have spoken as he had to Kiamh.
Yet if he pursued the lad to apologize, he might do more than kiss him.
When he looked up he saw Lomond, his white-haired seneschal, standing and watching him.
His expression made it plain he’d seen everything.
“Shall I collect the druid and bring him to your chamber tonight?” the seneschal asked.
“You heard him. ’Twas from gratitude, naught more.” Fifer gave Lomond a wan smile. “Send the healer to attend to him. He cannae return to his people, so we must find a position for the lad. Mayhap you could find work suitable for a druid?”
“’Tisnae much to him.” Lomond frowned. “I’ll speak to the head gardener. The lad’s kind, they’re said to be skilled with plants and such.”
That would keep Kiamh out of the stronghold, and away from Fifer. “Good.”
He walked down the tower steps, nodding to the watchers he passed as he made his way to his chamber.
There he lay on his bed, freeing his stiff cock and stroking it as he recalled the druid lad’s lips on his.
They had been soft and sweet, filled with the wondrous curiosity of the young.
Just as his had been the first time he’d kissed his best friend Gael.
They had been walking home from the brine pits, both of them covered in flecks of salt and sweating after a long day of work, when Fifer proposed they go for a swim in the River Dee.
They’d done the same a dozen times, and yet for some reason this time he could not stop sneaking looks at Gael as he stripped out of his tunic, trews and boots and waded into the shallows.
They had played at first, splashing each other as they washed away the salt from their bodies. Then Gael had slipped and fallen, and Fifer had snatched him up and carried him over to the embankment. He leaned down, looking all over him, and then straddled him when he made to rise.
“You cannae swim, eejit, remember?” he said, panting the words as their wet bodies slid against each other.
“Aye.” Gael closed his eyes and flung out his arms. “Scold me as you wish.”
“I should thrash you.” Without thinking he rolled his hips to rub his cock against his friend’s, and then bent down and covered his mouth with his as he made a startled sound.
Now Fifer steadily stroked himself as he imagined Kiamh under him, his eyes wide as he spread his thin legs and used his heavy cock to penetrate his tight arse.
How much he longed to be inside him, and listen to his whimpers and cries.
He’d cradle his shivering body as he fucked him, just as he had with Gael that day by the river.
Neither of them had known it to be wrong, only something to be kept their secret.
“Use me as much as you desire,” his first love had begged. “Naught gives me such pleasure as you.”
Kiamh had proved much the same, ever coming to him and speaking of his gratitude and shyly flirting with him.
Indeed, from the manner in which the lad behaved, he could bring him into his bed every night, and he would not object.
He’d teach him what to do to please him, and learn what the druid lad desired.
No doubt he’d serve him as long as Fifer wished.
He desires me, too. The sweet fervency of that kiss had been unmistakable.
In the end it was the dream of Kiamh and not the memory of Gael that made Fifer spill his seed.
As he lay panting in the final throes, the image of carrying his first love’s body out of the charnel house came back to him.
Gael had been so pitifully thin, likely due to being starved in the last stages of the sickness, for Fifer’s màthair had succumbed to the pestilence, and no one would come near their cottage.
Just as those facking slavers starved the lad.
As much as he wanted to take the druid as his lover, he could not steal away the lad’s only hope of happiness. He could never give him the life he deserved, and in the end bitterness and envy would tear them apart.
Fifer closed his eyes, ignoring the wetness that slid across his temples into his hair.