Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (19 page)

“Why not?” Keosqe frowned. “Ashamed to own me your lover?”

“That’s not it,” Tristen huffed. “Veare will believe I took advantage of your hospitality and say I seduced you. Imagine his umbrage at us! Or rather me.”

“Would Veare think thusly of you?”

“If the bulk of your attention were to turn from him to me, yes, he would.”

“Even if I made it clear it was I who seduced you?”

“He’d never believe it. You know how highly he esteems you. To his mind, you would never be so dishonorable as to take his little brother to bed.”

“Not so little any longer,” Keosqe teased. “Has he seen you unclad recently?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Tristen took a deep breath then shook his head. “I’m not yet out of university so as far as he’s concerned, I’m still a child and therefore not somebody you’d take that sort of interest in. Were he to learn of our liaison, he’ll likely conclude it was I who chased after you despite my tender years.” He sniffed. “He’ll bawl me out; say he didn’t raise me to lure his best friend into lechery. And then I’ll have to listen to how disappointed he is with how I’ve turned out despite his best efforts!”

He scowled again when Keosqe chuckled. “You fear the tedium of his lectures more than his anger, don’t you?”

Tristen shrugged. “So would you if you’d had to live with them for most of your life. He’s a good Deir, don’t get me wrong, but Veres almighty, he’s probably one of the most self-centered people in the land.”

Keosqe sighed. “Not probably. He is.”

“Ha! You actually spoke ill of him. What a change.”

“I suppose it’s the influence of someone who refuses to call a spade by any other name.” Keosqe hugged Tristen closer. “It’s one reason I love you. You’re so honest, so forthcoming with your opinions.”

“Not always,” Tristen countered. “I have my secrets too.”

“Of course you do. But you don’t sweeten your words just to avoid ruffling people’s feelings if you think the truth needs to be voiced. That’s refreshing and I welcome it.”

Tristen grimaced. “Even when you’re at the receiving end?” he asked, uncomfortably aware of the many times he’d treated Keosqe to an acid retort.

“Even then.” Tristen closed his eyes as he was turned around and enfolded in Keosqe’s arms. “There’s no malice in you,
ariad
. Even when you’re angry, when you chastise me, you do so to correct me, not to hurt me. How can I take that against you? How can I not love you?” He pressed a brief kiss to Tristen’s mouth. “I’ll always care for Veare. He’s my first love. But you have my heart. To hold or to break. Your jealousy is misplaced. Though it’s nice to see you the jealous one for once.”

Before Tristen could reply, Keosqe drew him into a scorching kiss that drove all thought from his mind.

“Let’s go home,” Keosqe roughly said when the kiss ended.

“Home?” Tristen stared at him, his thoughts befuddled by the kiss.

“Deilen Court. Unless you want me to bed you in your brother’s house? I don’t mind at all, but given how noisy you can get when I’m up your arse—”

Tristen could feel Keosqe’s grin behind the hand he had clapped over his lover’s mouth. He glared at him but could not bring himself to turn down the invitation to make love. Not when he could feel Keosqe’s desire hard against his groin, promising him that he would feel it for a long while after. He looked away in embarrassment over the scarlet path his thoughts had taken.

“What will I tell Veare?” he muttered. “He’ll wonder why I’m not staying the night.”

“Simple. Tell him I invited you. You’ve never stayed over at Deilen Court.”

“True.” Tristen could not help the eager timber in his voice. He had visited the estate once when he was still a child. That had been just before the Marantes perforce left Nivare. His recollections of the place were vague, though he recalled being most impressed. “I remember your home being beautiful and so very large yet warm and quite homey. Am I remembering correctly or is my memory playing me false?”

“Well, I’m hardly unbiased but I do think we’ve managed to make a home of the estate,” Keosqe replied. “I enjoy coming home if that counts for something.” He took Tristen’s hand and led him back to the house. “Come, let’s take our leave of them. Verily I’m barely keeping myself contained, so if you don’t want to reveal all to Veare just yet, we’d best get ourselves to Deilen Court at once.” Keosqe’s eyes sparkled. “And into my bed even sooner,” he added in a low voice.

Tristen groaned and brushed past Keosqe to hurry into the house ahead of him. Damn him! All he had to do was say such things in just that way and Tristen’s body was all ready to betray him.

* * * *

His memory had not played him false. Deilen Court was large and beautiful and had a cozy air that should have been at variance with its sheer size and elegance.

The mansion was one of the oldest in the kingdom, but it had been constantly modernized by each succeeding generation without diminishing its historical ambience or distinct charm overmuch. However, Tristen had little time to appreciate the estate’s attractions because Keosqe ushered him to his apartment right after presenting him to his parents, Emris and Taivon Deilen.

Sons respectively of the previous Herun and his brother and therefore first-degree cousins, both were every inch Deilens with the same pale gold hair and amethyst-hued eyes as Keosqe. They’d been quite cordial and accommodating to the Marante brothers that day long ago; far more than Tristen had expected of such high-ranking aristocrats. And they’d been very kind to him when they met again during the royal wedding in Rikara.

That warmth was retained by their only son though given a decided twist due to Keosqe’s roguish sense of humor, which tended toward the earthy, but could also be so esoteric only a privileged few could comprehend it or barbed enough to make the recipient of a pointed jest fidget in acute discomfort. In any case, what Tristen remembered of Keosqe’s parents had not changed much in the intervening years.

On the other hand, the most he had seen of the house was the great front hall with its blue-veined marble floor and the curving carpeted stairs to the second level, the gracious, stylishly furnished parlor where Keosqe met them and the spacious garden out front with its dancing fountains, sculpted topiaries and the long drive winding through the perfectly trimmed hedges. This was the first time he would visit the residential section of the great house. He wondered if Keosqe’s parents already knew about his liaison with their son or if they had guessed at it owing to the unseemly speed with which Keosqe had taken leave of them with Tristen in tow.

Once in the apartment, Tristen headed for the great mullioned windows in the sitting room overlooking the expansive grounds in back of the manse. The manicured lawns were divided by beds of exquisite varicolored flowers and thickly clustered herbs or meticulously trimmed shrubbery lush with foliage and blossoms. Further on a wide stream crossed by an arcing bridge separated the orderly lawn from a grassy meadow bordered by ancient-looking trees, their boughs laden with fruit, nuts, and vines. Tristen softly whistled when he realized he was looking at the edge of the woodlands that formed the southern bounds of the city.

Fascinated by the bucolic beauty of the scenery, he only half listened as Keosqe spoke to the servants regarding the sleeping accommodations. He did not know whether to be relieved or disappointed when his lover instructed that the room adjoining his be prepared for his guest’s use. That is until he heard Keosqe order the connecting door in the bathing room to be unlocked and kept open for the duration of Tristen’s visit.

Keosqe’s quarters shared the bathing room with the neighboring suite. The apartments were built two generations ago for a youngest son and his spouse who chose not to move to a separate residence but remained at Deilen Court until their deaths.

The suites were commodious and more luxurious than any Tristen had seen before. Yet like the rest of the mansion, they’d been furbished for comfort rather than to flaunt the family’s wealth and power. It was not surprising Keosqe’s parents had settled one of the apartments on their heir. When he finally wed, he and his mate would have no reason to reside elsewhere and Emris and Taivon would get to enjoy the company of their grandchildren.

Tristen kept his eyes on the sumptuous view before him and tried not to think about the accessibility of his bedchamber. Then again would he actually get to sleep in the adjoining room? Before he could speculate any further, he was caught in the snug circle of Keosqe’s arms and drawn back against his chest.

“Do you like my home?” Keosqe murmured.

With Keosqe lips barely brushing his ear, Tristen could not think clearly. Nor could he suppress his body’s response to the distinctive prod of a hard shaft against his buttocks through the barrier of their clothing.

“Y-yes,” he muttered, trying to collect his wits. “It’s beautiful. Just like … just like I remembered.” He trembled as Keosqe smoothed his hands down the sides of his torso to grip his hips. “But also warm and … wel-welcoming. Aah!” He could not help a soft moan when his lover delicately nipped his ear. “That … that’s … Ooh, is that a-a roehart I see over there?” He tried to pull away and put some distance between his backside and the enticing hardness pressed against it. “Can we go down and follow it?”

Keosqe snorted in amusement. “Is that a serious question?”

Tristen hesitated. “Um … yes?”

He gave a startled cry when Keosqe suddenly swept him into his arms and bore him into the bedchamber. Without further ado, he laid Tristen down on the massive canopied bed and silenced his sputtering protests with a plundering kiss. Tristen groaned at the sensual assault and attempted to regain some control by wriggling from under the noble. But in the process he spread his thighs and Keosqe promptly insinuated a leg between them and brought their groins into contact. The sensation of their shafts rubbing against the other through their breeches stoked Tristen’s mounting lust and caused Keosqe’s reined in passion to finally explode.

Tristen gasped when Keosqe broke their kiss to swiftly and rather brusquely divest him of his clothes.

“Wait!” he protested when a button popped off in his lover’s haste to remove his shirt. “Slow down, Kes-
tyar
.”

“Nay.” Keosqe yanked Tristen’s breeches and drawers off in one motion. “Forgive me, but I need to have you
now
.”

He pinned Tristen to the bed and proceeded to ply his lips and tongue on virtually every inch of exposed skin. Tristen moaned as Keosqe sucked the sensitive flesh at the base of his throat before kissing and nipping his way to each rapidly hardening nipple. Mercy! He was leaving a multitude of telling bruises in the wake of his mouth’s descent to Tristen’s lower body. He was going to look thoroughly debauched by the time his lover was done with him.

Tristen groaned as his legs were pushed apart and his inner thighs similarly marked, as was the tender skin of his groin. If anyone were to see him thusly, there would be no denying Keosqe had claimed ownership of him. That Tristen might disagree about his belonging to anyone would be disregarded and indeed given no thought at all considering how egregiously well the latter knew his body.

When he was engulfed in the warmth of Keosqe’s mouth, Tristen momentarily forgot to think. Sensation overtook sense and pleasure swelled within. He tried not to make a sound but failed as he was repeatedly swallowed almost to the base of his shaft. And when Keosqe ran his tongue over the delicate seed pouch beneath his shaft, Tristen’s moans and whimpers turned into low breathy cries.

To his surprise, the pleasuring abruptly stopped, but before he could demand the reason for the cessation of his lover’s ministrations, Keosqe flipped him over onto his belly. Tristen looked over his shoulder in some trepidation when the noble pulled his arse up until he was on his knees. The audacious swipe and stab of Keosqe’s tongue into him left him speechless and he tried to concentrate on biting back his cries.

But Keosqe gave him no chance to collect his wits and before Tristen realized it, he had inserted fingers slippery with fragrant oil into his backside. He started to pant as Keosqe thrust his fingers into him while he reached around to cup his seed pouch and fondle his shaft, pressing kisses to the now damp skin of his nape and back of his shoulders all the while.

“Please, I can’t…” Tristen moaned, not quite certain what he was pleading for.

“Can’t wait,
ariad
?” Keosqe teased, the gruff tenor of his voice belying his seeming calm.

Tristen wanted to protest; to snap back a smart rejoinder. But his body refused to cooperate with his mind in its enjoyment of the stimulation it was receiving. As another wave of rapture overrode his indignation, he could only shake his head in affirmation of Keosqe’s suggestion.

“Enough,” he sputtered. “Too … m-much.”

Keosqe suddenly pulled out his fingers.

“Deity’s blood!” he growled. “Spread yourself, Tris.”

Parting his legs as wide as he could, Tristen chanced another peek back in time to see his lover lavishing oil on his shaft. He quickly averted his gaze and, lowering his head, awaited the breaching of his body.

When it came, it was quicker than usual and a bit on the rough side. But Keosqe still managed to keep from hurting him despite his blatant impatience. Soon the ache of thick flesh squeezing past that tight entrance and filling his arse to the figurative brim gave way to pleasure once more. When Keosqe started fondling his genitals as well, any and all discomfort ceased in the face of sharply mounting rapture.

Tristen buried his face in the pillow as Keosqe repeatedly plowed into him. He tended to avoid this position for it made him feel much too helpless. Not to mention that it allowed incredibly deep thrusts up his backside, which rendered him all but mindless with wanting and ecstasy, a combination that made him even more sharply aware of his lack of control.

His breathing turned harsh and erratic as he bore the double sensations of being penetrated and stroked at the same time. And when Keosqe licked and sucked on the skin from the crook of his neck to the tip of his shoulder, he broke down and sobbed, lost in rapture.