Nor Iron Bars A Cage (22 page)

He rubbed his cheek against my belly. The rasp of his stubble on my shirt was flame across my skin. He slid his hands inside the front of my shirt, and stayed there.

I put my hand on his head, feeling the texture of his hair between my fingers. His breath warmed me through the fabric. He made a small sound that might have been a laugh. “I’m pushing again, aren’t I? Gods, Lyon, you have no idea what you do to me. I’m just going to stay here for a minute. Don’t mind me.”

I stroked his head, then laid the fingers of my dead clawed hand against his cheek. I wanted to pretend it wasn’t a test, but knew it was. He just leaned into my touch though, and then, turned and pressed a kiss to my thumb. It warmed me. That hand might be useless, but I could feel the heat of his mouth.

He murmured, “This is good. Just to know it’s you touching me. I used to make up stories in my mind sometimes, where you’d lived through the fire. I never dreamed they could be true.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No!” He tipped his head back to look up at me. “I regret none of it, except that I wasn’t there when you needed me. But I’m here now. And so are you. That was how the best dreams started.”

He freed a hand from my shirt, reached up slowly and cupped my bad hand in his. I said, “That’s so ugly.”

He kissed it again, slowly, drawing lips and tongue over those frozen joints. My fingers twitched at his touch. He asked, “I know you can’t use it, but does it still feel?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He returned to his exploration, his mouth becoming frankly lewd on the end of my bent thumb. I watched as he sucked me into his mouth past the knuckle, then slid off with a wet pop. My whole body yearned toward that touch. I felt the heat in my groin rising to match the heat of his busy, licking tongue. The way he curled his tongue-tip round my thumb and over… I groaned softly, and tightened my other hand in his hair.

“You like that.”

“Mm.”

“So do I.” He took my other hand, pulling it away from his hair to suck my forefinger in deep. His eyes drooped half-closed as he made slow, lascivious love to every finger on that hand. By the time he was done, my hips were jerking toward him without conscious intent. I was hard and aching, and when he let my hand go, I was glad of the wall behind me for support, not protection.

Tobin’s voice had that rough quality when he said, “Now what? Shall I pleasure myself again for you? Because it will be a very short but enthusiastic show.”

I couldn’t say what I wanted, but I took his hand in my turn, raised it to my mouth for a kiss, and then moved it to the waistband of my trews.

His eyes were honey in the late sunlight. “You’re sure? Yes?”

I wanted this more than I feared it. “Yes.”

He opened my buttons and slid the fabric down off my hips. Then my smalls, pushing them to my thighs. I leaned hard on the stone wall at my back and watched him. He locked his hands behind himself again and leaned forward, to place a soft kiss on my belly.

I said, “I don’t mind your hands if they’re not behind me, pinning me. I mean, I want them.” Somehow it had become true.

The smile he gave me was soft with affection. He reached out slowly, so slowly, and ran his fingers from my hips down to where the scant blond curls started at my groin. There he flattened his palms against me. My cock rose a little at his touch, but I was still far from hard. He kissed the swelling tip, plucking at my foreskin with his lips, and I whimpered. That touch was like nothing I’d ever felt. My cock hardened further, begging for more. Gods above, his mouth was soft and wet and gentle, sliding over me in a way a boy’s hand never could. And his face!

I looked down at him, and for all my vaunted breadth of vision, I could see nothing except Tobin. His eyes were half-closed with pleasure, his cheeks rough with a day’s worth of beard, his mouth touching me. His lips were parted to pluck at the rim of my cockhead, slowly rising from the foreskin. His tongue emerged to swipe across me, smearing a silver trail of my preslick that caught the light. Then his jaw opened as he enveloped the whole head and shaft in his mouth.

I gasped with pleasure, and he pulled off me with a slurp, looked up, and grinned. “More?”

“Please.”

“Thank the gods.” He bent back to his task. I had no idea those sensations were possible. The feel of his tongue in the sensitive places under my foreskin, the suction of his mouth drawing me in, the pressure of his throat around me. I put my palms against the rough stone, and watched Tobin pleasure me until I had neither voice nor breath nor sense left in my head.

As my wordless cries got louder, he sped up. He pressed his palms on my hips, without taking hold, and bobbed his head, working my hard shaft deep in his mouth. I felt my release rushing toward me, the heat boiling up from my balls and spilling outward. I tried to tell him, but managed only a deeper groan. And then I came. He swallowed it down, eyes closed and throat working as he milked me dry. When he finally let me go I just slid down the wall on wobbly knees, sat hard on the floor, and kissed him. His mouth tasted of my spend, and he smiled against my lips.

It was a long time before I found words. Wonder filled me, at the sensations, at the fact that I’d been able to permit that, at the most wondrous thing of all— that he’d enjoyed doing it. With me. “That was… astounding.”

“First time, right?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Very much my pleasure. You make wonderful sounds.” When I would have turned away, embarrassed, he caught my head between his hands and kissed me again. “That was praise, lion-boy. I liked it, a lot.”

He hugged me, moving carefully as always, and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. I wanted to be part of him, and have him part of me. I was dizzy and content and too satisfied to be afraid. I nuzzled into his hair behind his ear and he laughed. “That tickles.” But he pulled me in tighter instead of pushing me away.

After a while, my ass started to get cold on the stone. I said, “How long, do you think, till sunset?”

He glanced at our window. “An hour perhaps, not more.”

“And an hour after that until we’re needed. There’s a bed.”

“So there is.”

“We could be more comfortable.”

“I’m liking this.”

“Come to bed and I’ll make you like that more.”

He pulled back to look at me. “Is that an offer?”

“Maybe.” I had to admit, “I’m not sure of what.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” He stood and reached a hand down for me.

I was half undressed, shirt pushed up and trews at my knees. It was easiest just to strip and get into bed, scooting over close to the wall. Tobin stripped fast, got in beside me, and then lay on his back, arms folded behind his head.

“I like this,” I said, rolling up on one elbow to look at him. I had my bad arm supporting me, so my good hand was free to reach out and touch him. I explored his textures. His stubble was rough under my fingers, his throat smooth. His lips were dry, but as I ran a finger over them he sucked it into his mouth, and I felt again that wet clinging softness. Even though I’d just come, the touch and sight of his working mouth made me breathe harder.

I pulled my hand free, and stroked over his chest, letting his soft hairs brush my palm as I made ever wider circles on those fine planes of muscle. When I came to a nipple, I explored its texture, plucking and wiggling it as it crinkled tighter between my fingers. His nipple was pliable but his chest was so hard. I tried to dig my fingers into his pecs, and he tightened them until it was like pressing into sculpted stone. I slid my palm lower, over the washboard of his stomach. And lower yet.

The wet tip of his cock slid across my wrist. “Touch me there,” Tobin whispered. “Put your hand on me.”

I met his eyes. He said, “I’ll keep my hands locked behind my head. I’m all yours.”

How could anyone say no to that? I slid my hand lower, to where his curls became coarser and thicker. The shaft of his cock stroked over the back of my hand. I bumped it slightly, on purpose, and Tobin hissed.
What was I waiting for?
I’d done this a dozen times when I was fifteen and sixteen, meeting Jol or Dallon in some dark corner, both of us eager and ready to explode. We’d gotten each other off with more speed than skill, panting in the darkness. This was far better.

I turned my hand over and cupped his cock in my palm. Slowly I closed my fingers around him. He made no sound as I stroked him upward, inch by inch, but I felt his whole body arch toward my touch. I changed positions, bracing over him to kiss him. Tobin’s mouth still tasted salty, and for a moment it seemed unpleasantly strange. But under my flavor was his familiar presence, and the strangeness faded. I gave him one more kiss, and then positioned myself above his groin, where I could look, and touch.

All those years of solitude might not have made me an expert, and I had only one hand to use, but my fingers were bigger and stronger than when I was a boy, and with Tobin I was unhurried. I let my mind go back, back
before,
to the time when I’d dreamed of this at night, and put the thought out of my mind by day. This was Tobin here under my hand, asking for something I
did
know how to give him. I was damned well going to do this right.

I began slowly, feeling his size and textures against my fingers. His shaft was veiny and hard, the head pliable, the foreskin slippery satin. I changed to a faster firm grip that soon had him writhing and breathing open-mouthed. His gaze dropped to where I’d pushed back the sheets, and he watched my hand avidly. My fingers circled him, pleasuring him, and the head of his cock rose red and damp from my fist.

“That’s so good,” he muttered. “More. Gods and goddess, Lyon, that’s good.”

He was at my mercy, under my control. I felt powerful and tender at the same time. I wished I had my other hand to add. But one would have to be enough. I watched intently as he bucked his hips off the bed, pushing into my touch. He was panting now, each fast breath ending in a whimper. Every stroke made him shake and jerk, and my hand was eased by his preslick.

I paused, my fingers wrapped tight around him. He shivered, and muttered, “Don’t stop. Oh, please.” I looked down at him, as another drop welled free. I wanted to lick him. I wanted to take him in my mouth and do for him what he’d done for me. But the thought of it made my heart speed up, and not in a good way. I wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable, to give over my mouth and breath to this. It was all I could do to lean over him and place a tiny kiss on the wet, shiny tip. He groaned, deep in his throat, and came in spurts that hit my face and neck, and barely missed my eye.

“Oh, gods.” His voice shook with passion and laughter. “Oh, yes. Sorry, lion-boy. I didn’t plan to drown you in it. Your own fault. So good.”

I’d felt inadequate, with that one silly kiss. But there was no doubt it had done the job. I grabbed the corner of the sheet and wiped myself off. “I’ll do better next time.”

“The heavens help me. I may not live through it.” He pulled me back down beside him, grabbed the sheet and took over the job of cleaning my neck and cheek. He was still laughing softly, but it felt like a good kind of laugh. I didn’t think he was mocking me. It sounded like joy.

I shifted, brushing against him, and he shook with echoes of pleasure. I’d done that for Tobin. Until now I’d mostly been a burden. This time I’d set my fears aside and I’d made him feel this good.

He quit rubbing at my face, tucked the sheet around us, and snugged me in close against his side. “We should rest,” he murmured drowsily. “You especially. It’s likely to be a long night.”

That sparked the anxiety that lingered like smoke in the back of my mind. “Do you really think they’ll try that transference? Secondmage can’t even speak effectively with the ghost. It makes no sense.”

His voice became clearer. “I don’t know. But I’m here to stand at your elbow if they do.”

“So I can help your king,” I said bitterly.

“Well, yes.” He paused and then said more coolly, “If you’re suggesting something different that I should understand, please just say it.”

I missed the drowsy warmth from him. I wasn’t even sure why I was irritated. He wasn’t trying to convince me it was my logical job to take Secondmage’s place. If it hadn’t occurred to him, I didn’t want to bring it up. Or perhaps he’d thought of it, and realized I could never stand to do it. I didn’t want to know I’d already failed in his eyes. I wished I’d never heard of transference.

I would pretend that was true, and grab for one more hour of safety and comfort with Tobin. “It’s nothing. I’m just worried about how tonight will go.”

“I can imagine. But you can only do the best translations you’re able, and hope it works. We’re here in the foothills now, anyway, and thanks to you we’re probably near the right place for the tunnel. If they are coming, then being even this prepared is already more than the R’gin bastards are expecting. We’ll be waiting for them. That’s huge and it’s due to you. Anything more is a bonus.”

I closed my eyes and pressed closer to him again, until we were settled back together. He was so solid. Did he not feel the same fear, of letting a ghost move into the body of a man of power? Or had he learned through years as a soldier to let go of what he couldn’t control? I was so grateful to share this space and time with him. Which brought another question to mind. I said, “Does the king know about you being fay? Does he think we, you and I…”

“Are lovers? Possibly. Even probably. He certainly knows about me. I told you I haven’t hidden it. There are plenty of us in the forces who are fay, and not a few who favor women in town, but are more than willing to roll with a man when in the field. King Faro does know we’re old and close friends. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to have it known you’re also fay, but he may have guessed. The king’s a very good judge of men.” Tobin glanced across the room and back. “The size of this room suggests he does think we’re together.”

It didn’t really matter, and if it gave me the right to have Tobin in my bed in the dark nights, I was more than willing to have it known. “What else does he know about me, about my background?”