Chapter One #2
What would any of it be like, with someone like that?
Theos had always been precocious as a warrior and a lover, and he’d found his way into the barracks when he was much younger than the prisoner was now.
For the first couple of years he’d been the less experienced, less aggressive partner to whomever could teach him.
Later he’d found himself in bed with men who were his equals, and he’d enjoyed the comradeship, the boisterous challenges and easy laughter so much like the interactions on the drill grounds.
Now he was often more dominant, but he didn’t do much teaching.
What would it be like with someone who needed guidance?
The boy was Elkati, and everyone knew they were strange about sex.
Was it possible the prisoner had never taken someone to bed?
How would it feel to be his first? To teach him how to find and give pleasure, to touch him in ways no one had ever touched him before . . .
Theos shifted to give himself more room, and Andros glanced at his crotch and laughed.
“You’ve been quiet this whole patrol,” he said.
“Keeping to yourself. That’s not like you.
” He reached over and laid a friendly hand on the fabric covering Theos’s growing erection.
“You want a little attention? I’m a bit tired, myself, but my hand or my mouth . . .”
It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had given the other relief.
They were friends, after all. And the camp was quiet; a few of the soldiers had paired off and there were soft moans and murmurs coming from their blankets.
The prisoners were huddled together, clearly working hard to pretend they were somewhere else, or that they didn’t notice what the Sacrati were doing.
And the rest of the soldiers were either on duty or getting ready for sleep.
No one would care if Theos let his guard down for a few brief minutes.
He shifted away anyhow. “No, I’m okay. I should get some sleep.”
But first he had to make sure everything in the camp was safe. So he stood, ignoring the roughness of his canvas trousers against the sensitive skin of his erection, and headed for the prisoners.
He found the boy and held out his hand. “Knife,” he said quietly.
The boy handed over the whetstone.
“Knife,” Theos repeated more firmly.
The boy rolled his eyes and produced the knife, handing it to Theos with exaggerated care. Theos squinted at him. The small show of rebellion, as if anyone would ask for a whetstone when he knew a prisoner had a knife.
“Hands,” Theos ordered, gesturing to show what he wanted.
The boy raised his hands and Theos took the slack out of the rope and then refastened it.
He tugged, testing the strength, and found no give.
But there was still something he didn’t like.
Something he didn’t trust. He stood there, watching the boy feign confused indifference, and thought back.
The kid had spent time with three prisoners.
Two of them had pretty obvious injuries.
The third? The kid had fussed over him, over his hands . . .
Theos took a couple of large steps, not too careful about any prisoners he might be landing on, and found the kid’s third patient.
A big man. His hand was bandaged, but there was no sign of blood.
Theos yanked on the ropes holding the man’s hands together, and felt them give.
The kid had sawed almost through them, leaving just a few strands to make them look secure.
Theos yanked again and the ropes split. The man sprang to his feet, and that was when Theos saw the rock in his fist.
The other prisoners were part of it now, roiling and struggling up, all still bound but trying to help their comrade. Theos lost his balance as they rolled into his knees, and the freed prisoner lunged forward, his feet clearly untied as well, the rock aimed right for Theos’s head.
Theos got his feet under himself and ducked beneath the man’s reach.
Then he brought his hand up, the heel of his palm hard and flat, right into the man’s nose.
The enemy had been coming toward him and Theos had put his full strength behind the blow, so he wasn’t surprised when the man toppled.
The bone of his nose had been driven back into his brain, killing him instantly.
The camp was silent, the prisoners still and shocked, staring at their fallen friend.
Theos turned to the boy who’d started it all and pointed at the dead man.
“Your fault,” he said quietly. He didn’t know if the kid understood the words, but he was pretty sure he got the message.
The man had been alive, and now he was dead, and there’d been no point to it.
A stupid waste, just because the Elkati boy had thought he was clever.
Theos stepped carefully out of the crowd of prisoners. “Leave the body there,” he told his men, who’d been drawn by the ruckus. “As a reminder. Check all of their bonds and make sure they’re tight.” He shook his head. “And keep that scrawny Elkati tied up—no more knives.”
So that was that. It should have been over. They’d been a little careless, but Theos had caught the problem before it got serious.
Except he hadn’t, because there was a dead body lying among the prisoners. A man who’d never see another sunrise. And it was partly the kid’s fault, sure, but it was partly Theos’s fault too. These prisoners were his responsibility, and now one of them was dead.
Theos spat his disgust out onto the dirt.
Andros approached cautiously. “Apologies.”
Theos glanced at him, then turned back to watching the prisoners as they were reinspected. “I was right there, letting you give him the knife. If I’d thought it was a bad idea, I would have stopped it.”
“Aye,” Andros acknowledged. “But now you really need to let me suck you. You’re all keyed up, and you’ll never get to sleep otherwise. We’ve got another four days until we’re home; you need your rest.”
It was good advice, and Theos took it. He leaned against a tree and looked down as Andros knelt, and just that was enough to help him relax.
Everything was fine. They were still alive, and the prisoner .
. . Theos made himself stop thinking about the prisoner.
Well, the dead one. Instead, he pictured the other one.
The young one, who’d caused the trouble in the first place.
But instead of the earlier visions of teaching the boy about pleasure, Theos imagined showing the boy who was in charge.
Making him beg, making him need release and withholding it because he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
And then finally, when neither of them could stand it anymore, Theos would drive himself into the boy, would claim and tame and control him.
Andros grunted and shifted, trying to accommodate Theos’s too-vigorous thrusting, and Theos managed to calm himself a little.
He ran an appreciative hand through Andros’s short, dark hair, and then glanced over to find the boy staring at them.
The rest of the prisoners were huddled together, their heads turned away, but the boy’s eyes were wide and gleaming in the firelight, his gaze fixed on Theos, and on Andros, and on the place where their bodies were joined.
Theos pushed in, hard and deep, and felt Andros swallow desperately around him.
And he saw the boy’s eyes widen just a little bit more.
Theos looked away then, and made himself focus on the simple sensations, the warmth and the pressure and the wetness and Andros’s busy, generous tongue.
But when he felt the tension building, he took a few more thrusts and then pulled out, bringing his hand down to stroke himself as he spurted thick white strands onto Andros’s face.
And in the middle of it he turned back and saw the boy still staring, and another wave of pleasure crashed in, making him close his eyes and give in to it all.
When Theos was done, Andros wiped his face clean and laughed quietly. “Putting on a show?” he asked, climbing to his feet.
“I just wasn’t sure you could handle it all. Didn’t want to choke you.” He nodded at Andros’s crotch. “You want your turn?”
“You can owe me. Like I said, I’m tired.”
Theos nodded. “Okay. Thanks.” He refastened his pants, stretched his arms above his head, and refused to look over at the prisoners. “You were right, I wouldn’t have slept without that.”
“I’m very wise,” Andros agreed. He headed off toward his own bedroll, and Theos undid his pack and spread his blankets close to the fire.
After checking that the guard was in place and alert, he lay down and let himself relax.
He tried to clear his mind, and almost managed it.
But there, floating in the darkness, was a pair of wide blue eyes, staring at him.
And Theos fell asleep still wondering just what the man behind the eyes had been thinking.