Kiss Across Swords (Kiss Across Time Series) (14 page)

They hit loose sand dunes and their progress slowed. Brody let the mare chose her own pace, while he picked the direction. About forty minutes later, he saw the flicker of a fire over to his left and angled the horse that way.

On the lee side of a dune sat the crumbling remains of a sun-bleached wall, an equally old and pitted round well with a well-kept wooden cover over it, the withered branches of a very old olive tree with a few tough leaves and a tent with a campfire before it. Spread out on the soft sand before the tent was a bedcover and cushions. It looked like something out of the illustrations Brody had once seen in Muslim stories.

The mare slowed as it approached the tent, perhaps sensing it had reached its destination and resting place.

Brody dismounted, looking around. The spot seemed deserted. He extended his senses and was just in time to feel-hear the approach of someone from the rear of the horse. He whirled, pulling out his sword, only to have the blade clash against Will’s knife and come to a standstill.

“I had to know it was you, first,” Will explained. “The well has been poisoned by the Fatimids so the locals don’t bother coming here anymore, but there are still some travelers from farther away who stop in sometimes, even this late at night.”

Brody returned his sword to the scabbard. “Your privacy seems to come with some inconveniences.”

“My quarters with Selkirk are less than ideal. I’m happy to pay the price asked of me for this little oasis.” Will pushed his knife back into his belt. “Let’s get your horse comfortable. And then let’s take care of you.”

A ripple ran up Brody’s spine.

It took less than five minutes to settle the mare, loosen her girth and give her some feed. Brody patted her on the nose as a reward for her good nature while Will leaned against the broken down wall, both elbows hooked on the top of it, watching.

The tension was back in Brody’s gut. He glanced at Will and saw a brooding expression had settled on his face.

Brody made himself turn to face Will. “You were quick to tell me who you were. Your birth date.”

“You already knew I was vampire. Why be coy?” Will’s eyes narrowed a little. “How many other vampires have you known?”

“Apart from the one who made me?” Brody shook his head. “None.”

“Sweet Lord,” Will murmured. “You’ve held yourself apart all this time? Managed alone?” Admiration filled his tone.

“I hated vampires. Hated myself. For a very long time,” Brody admitted. “Then I…adjusted.”

Will nodded. “It’s a very common reaction, the hatred.”

“It is?”

“You might have known that, if you hadn’t cut yourself off. Others might have helped you through it. But…it’s done now.”

And still, Will continued to lean against the wall.

Brody realized then that Will meant every word he had said earlier that afternoon. He would not come to Brody in any way. Brody must go to him.

His entire body seemed to bloom and grow hot and begin to pulse in one giant heartbeat.

Will was waiting.

Brody had to force his feet into taking the first step. Then another. The next three were easier. Then a sixth.

And then he was there. Will was taller, but Will was taller than just about everyone. Brody liked that. It fit with Will’s force of personality. Brody cupped Will’s cheek as he had done to Brody that afternoon. His hand was shaking.

At his touch, Will’s breath rushed from between his lips, telling Brody that Will was as tense as he was.

And abruptly, most of Brody’s fear departed, leaving him simply an aching, tightly wound bundle of intense need. He pressed his lips to Will’s and savored the taste, before thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

His canines extended and he was too overwhelmed to have the necessary control to retract them. Will would hopefully take it for the compliment it was. He pressed Will’s mouth against his, holding him there while he probed with his tongue. Tasting. Exploring.

When Will groaned, the tension in Brody’s body tightened to the point where a tap on the shoulder could have shattered him into a thousand pieces. His cock was throbbing against his belly in time with his heartbeat and the heat in his balls was like a furnace.

He reached for the hem on Will’s tunic with one hand, not willing to break contact with his mouth for a second.

Will’s hands came alive. They gripped Brody’s arms and he was spun around and pushed against the wall. Their kiss was broken.

Will was breathless. “There’s something I want to do for you. First.”

Brody knew exactly what Will intended. He didn’t think he could withstand more excitement, but his heart leapt anyway.

Will didn’t wait for an answer. His hands slipped beneath Brody’s tunic and pushed it up around his waist. Will smiled when he saw Brody was bare from mid-thigh upward, bereft of
braies
. “I’ll remember this sight,” he murmured and dropped to his knees in the sand.

He spread Brody’s thighs and his fingers caressed his balls, just before his hands cupped and squeezed them. Brody let his eyes close and his head roll back, the night air brushing over the heated skin of his face. He was actually hot. Aroused and hot.

When Will’s mouth closed over his cock, Brody groaned desperately. He was already so close to climaxing, Will’s work would be over barely before it had begun. Brody squeezed his hand into a fist, fighting the pleasure, trying to make it last as Will’s lips slid along his shaft and his tongue worked the underside with powerful effectiveness.

Then Will’s teeth bumped over the ridges of the head of his cock and Brody lost control of his building climax completely. It crashed through him with a power that swamped his senses. He dimly heard himself shout as he jerked and came with hard, grinding thrusts that dimmed his vision and drained his energy. He clutched at the crumbling wall for support, waiting for his heart rate to settle back to normal again and his breathing to quieten.

Will sat on the sand, watching him, wearing a small smile.

Brody let go of the wall and stood up carefully. He cleared his throat.

“Well, I guess we know
your
sensitive spot,” Will said.

“What’s yours?” Brody said. His voice was strained.

Will stood up and unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the ground. “There’s two ways to find out.”

“You could just tell me,” Brody said.

Will turned and headed for the tent and the fire, pulling his tunic off as he went. Like Brody, he wore no mail underneath, but he did wear an undershirt and hose. He dropped the tunic and kept walking. “I could just tell you, but that wouldn’t make it very interesting, would it?”

Brody shed his tunic and the leather hauberk. Then, quickly, the undershirt, as he followed Will to the fire. He removed both hose and boots in two strides apiece, which left him naked, as he wore no
braies.
It was simultaneously an unrestricted and sinful feeling and he could feel his body responding to it.

Will stepped onto the bedcover still wearing his undershirt and leggings and turned to face Brody. He paused, studying him. “I thought you might have more scars,” he said, almost diffidently.

From being a slave, Brody realized.

“I was young. Very young. I healed well,” he explained. “And then I was turned before life handed me any more.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirty. I think.”

“You were a slave for
seventeen
years?”

“It would have been longer except I kept defying them.” Brody shrugged, trying to make it sound casual. “In the end it killed me. Or it would have, except another slave turned me.”

Will nodded. He reached for his undershirt. “Then you fared better than me, when it came to scars.” He pulled off the shirt.

There were minor scars in several places on his body, but there was a major scar right near his heart. In the moonlight it looked dark. Brody imagined it was red in daylight. Will turned and Brody saw a long, wriggling scar along his back, high up under the shoulder blade.

“In the twenty years before I was made I did what I am still doing now. Mercenary. Soldier for hire. But I was mortal then and the scars I got didn’t disappear like they do now.” Will turned back to face Brody and removed his hose and shoes so that he was naked. “I’m marked by my profession.”

But that wasn’t what Brody was looking at. Rather, his gaze was caught by the perfect symmetry of Will’s body. The man had a lot of muscle—far more of it than most men Brody had ever met. The muscle swelled and bulged and curved in a way that made Will’s flesh dip and rise intriguingly. When he had turned to show the scar on his back, Brody had also seen the hard buttocks and taut thighs and the curve of the broad back down to them.

From between Will’s thighs, his cock was standing erect. It wasn’t as thick as Brody’s, but it was possibly longer and the head flared wider, with the thick tracery of veins that showed on a man with pale skin.

Brody stepped onto the cover and felt rich embroidery under his toes. He wondered where Will had acquired it, but the thought faded. Will drew him closer, his hand on his hip.

Brody stroked the scar on Will’s chest, feeling the roughness of old skin healed badly. He let his fingers slid down over the flat stomach and felt it quiver in response. Then the sensitive thin skin by the hipbones. He stroked Will’s cock with his fingertips and it jerked. He gripped it and stroked more firmly.

Will hissed, his hips shifting.

Brody, enjoying the petty control over such a powerful man, kept stroking and teasing. He let his thumb drift over the seam on the underside of Will’s cock.

Will grabbed Brody’s wrist and squeezed. “Enough,” he said hoarsely. “I will not have you finish me this way. Not this time.”

This time
. Brody wanted to protest at the implied assumption but didn’t, because he would be a hypocrite if he did. He already knew he wanted Will again after this night.

“You might as well get comfortable, Brendan,” Will told him, turning and heading for the tent. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”

Brody shuddered as he watched Will walk away. The shudder wasn’t in fear or distaste, either. His body was suddenly throbbing with great need and desire again.

Will stepped inside the tent and emerged with a small bottle in his hand. Brody recognize it more by intent than content. Oil.

His body tightened even more. His cock was spear-straight and hard as a rock against his stomach.

“Lie down,” Will told him as he returned.

“Brody,” Brody said. Even his voice sounded strained. “My name is Brody.”

Will paused. “That’s something we don’t usually give out easily. Brody.”

“I won’t have you fuck me without it.”

Will nodded slowly. “You’d better call me Veris, then.” He grinned. “It’s not my real name, but it’s my own adopted one. No one can wrap their tongue around my real name.”

“What is your real name?”

“Väinämöinen.”

Brody smiled. “I’ll call you Veris, too.”

Veris stepped closed enough that their chests touched and their cocks brushed against each other. “I’ll have you calling my name as you come, Brody.” His hand was heavy on Brody’s shoulder as he pushed Brody down onto the cover.

Brody sank down, his heart thundering, his arousal a tight coil in the pit of his stomach once more. His balls were two heavy, hard masses between his thighs. Will—Veris—opened his thighs and settled between them. He poured a little of the oil onto his palm and spread it on his own cock and more of it with slow, teasing strokes over Brody’s. Then down to his anus and perineum. Again with slow deliberation.

Brody was twitching with anticipation.

Veris finished with a squeeze of Brody’s balls. Brody just about cried out then. He half lifted himself up off the ground.

He felt the nudge of Veris’ cock against him and drew a breath, letting himself relax, letting Veris in. Veris pushed inside and it was…good. Hard, heavenly. Oddly familiar.

Veris’ hand curled around Brody’s cock and stroked as his own cock thrust again.

Brody clawed at the cover. “Harder.”

“I won’t last.”