Shadow of the Father (38 page)

Yilon lay on the bed on his side, facing away from the door. A bandage circled the base of his tail, and another was fastened to his ear. He wore no tunic, nor pants that Sinch could see, but a sheet draped over him hid everything below the waist. Sinch felt his heart skip as he closed the door behind him and hurried over to the bed side.

Two patches on Yilon’s stomach were shaved and bandaged, but he had no other visible injuries. Sinch exhaled, and at the soft sound, Yilon opened one eye.

“Hi,” Sinch whispered.

Yilon grunted and turned over onto his stomach, then rolled to the opposite side, pulling his tail across his body to hang off the far edge of the bed. Sinch noticed the slight wince as he pulled it. “What happened to your tail? And ear?”

“A few scratches. I got in a fight.” Yilon patted the bed. “Can’t really lie on my back. How are you?”

Though the bed was narrow, Yilon had made plenty of room. Sinch sat up on it and traced his fingers down Yilon’s arm. “I found out where the crown is. I just have to go get it. Who did you fight with?”

Yilon nudged his muzzle against Sinch’s arm and sighed, a sound that conveyed more than anything he said. “Just a thug. He was working with a fox who wants the lordship for himself.”

“Dewry?”

The lazy mood was gone. Yilon jerked his head up. “How do you know that name? Did you run into Maxon?”

Sinch shuddered. “I wouldn’t be here if I had. I met Dewry. He was threatening Valix’s boss.”

“You met him? You talked to him?” Sinch nodded. “What did he say? What did
you
say?”

“You’ve met him, too,” Sinch said. “He was the—”

“Guard on our trip,” Yilon finished. “Maxon told me.”

“He told you? But I just saw him talking to Dewry.”

“Don’t worry about Maxon. He’s on our side. For now.”

“I’ll still worry,” Sinch said.

Yilon slipped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Don’t,” he said. “Come here, tell me about it.”

Sinch reached down to rub the unbandaged ear. “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “He was threatening Balinni. I stood up to him and he went away.” The rush of accomplishment he’d felt after the meeting with Dewry came back in a faint echo.

Yilon arched an eyebrow, looking up. “Really?”

“Sure.” Sinch grinned. “When I tell someone to go away, he goes away.”

“I mean…” Yilon said, and then looked into Sinch’s eyes. He grinned and rested his muzzle against Sinch’s chest. “Can I stay?”

The previous feeling was nothing compared to the warmth in his chest now. Rather than try to talk, Sinch slid down the bed until he could lie flat next to Yilon. Careful of the bandages, he stroked a paw down the soft fur from the fox’s ribs to his hips, finding as h moved under the blanket that Yilon was naked. Yilon’s arm curled around him in turn, their muzzles a whisker apart at the head of the bed. “So,” Sinch said, when he was sure his voice would remain steady, “I just have to go get the crown, and bring it back here.”

Yilon licked his nose gently. His paw tugged at Sinch’s tunic. “Don’t bring it here,” he said. “Bring it to the palace. But wait until I’m there.”

“Why?”

“If you present it to me… they won’t be able to keep you out. That’s a great service you’ve rendered the province. Even Maxon will have to acknowledge that. Tail and Teeth,” he swore suddenly. “I never thought places this backward still existed.”

Sinch wriggled out of his tunic and pulled it over his bed before lying back down. “Could we maybe not talk about Maxon in bed?”

Yilon grinned. ‘What would you like to talk about?”

“I don’t know that I want to talk,” Sinch said. He pressed up closer, sighing in Yilon’s embrace, feeling the strong beat of his heart. If he closed his eyes, there was nothing more to the world than that rhythm and the strong smell of fox in his nostrils. Yilon echoed his sigh, pulling him tight.

“Missed you,” he murmured.

“Me too.” Sinch tucked his muzzle under Yilon’s chin and nuzzled the collarbone. “If I’d been around, maybe you wouldn’t be so beat up.” He allowed his fingers to trace the bandages on Yilon’s abdomen. “Does it still hurt?”

“Nah,” Yilon said, though he flinched at the touch. “Maybe a little tender.”

Sinch inhaled, Yilon’s fur prickling his nose. This was what he wanted, just this, right here. If they went home… but he’d already said that, in the depth of the night. Here in the daylight, that thought felt silly. Of course they couldn’t go home. Yilon was the heir to the lordship here. He had duties and responsibilities, beyond any unspoken commitment he might feel to Sinch.

“Do you still want to go home?” Yilon whispered.

His claws scratched gently through Sinch’s fur, as though he’d asked nothing more than what Sinch wanted for breakfast. Sinch’s fingertips rested against Yilon’s stomach. “I…” he said, and then shook his head. “Maybe later. Once you’ve been…”

“Mmm.” Yilon nuzzled between Sinch’s ears. “I wish I could take you to Vinton.”

“I like the mountains here,” Sinch said. “Makes me feel protected.”

“Vinton’s mountains are warmer.”

Sinch drew ruffs of long, silky fur through his fingers. “Could we sit out on the terrace and drink chilled honey mead?”

“And eat goat cheese and spiced nuts.”

Sinch closed his eyes against the lure of the vision and slid his paw further down. “I like fox nuts better,” he said.

Yilon tensed, started to relax, and then said, “ow,” softly.

Sinch moved his paw. “Don’t tell me you’re hurt there, too.”

“No, no.” Yilon kissed his ear. “I forgot and wagged my tail. You can put your paw back.”

“You sure?” Sinch said.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I wouldn’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Yilon took hold of Sinch’s paw with his and pulled it toward his sheath. Sinch pulled back, and grinned when Yilon growled softly, “I’m fine.”

“If you’re absolutely sure.” By way of answer, Yilon pulled Sinch’s paw again and placed it firmly on the warm and growing hardness between his legs. Sinch closed his eyes and snuggled against the fox, fingers traveling up and down. It seemed a lifetime since he’d held the familiar warmth in his paw, but he remembered every inch of it, every detail of Yilon’s reactions. The little noise he made when Sinch’s fingers found the tip of his shaft, the way he liked to put his nose next to Sinch’s ear and exhale warmly into it (which also got Sinch rather hard), the kneading motion his paws made when he was trying just to focus on the light stroking.

As much as Sinch wanted his own pants off, he didn’t want to disturb the flow of the moment. Besides, if he knew Yilon, there would be a set of paws working at his trousers in short order. So he just trailed his fingers up and down the growing shaft, curling around its warmth when it was long enough, feeling the shivers through the warm, thick fur pressed against him.

It had only been… three days? since the inn at Frontier, where they’d pressed into each other’s mouths, hot and fast, and collapsed against each other in a warm haze afterwards, the way they always did. How much things could change, and yet still the core of who they were remained the same, no matter how many scrapes were bandaged on Yilon, no matter how many enemies were waiting for Sinch when he left this haven. His own sheath throbbed as he stroked Yilon’s erection, holding it more firmly, rubbing against the tip with every stroke and spreading the dampness there around.

Strong musk filled his nostrils, impelling his paw to stroke faster. Yilon made small whimpering sounds against him, hooking one bare leg over both Sinch’s own. His fingers slid into Sinch’s pants, rubbing his hips and tracing the line of his tail down his rear. Sinch worked his paw and braced himself, shivering a bit in delighted anticipation.

He knew something was wrong when he felt Yilon straining against him. He should have finished by this point, his knot should be full and tight. But Sinch kept his paw moving along the fox’s trembling erection until he felt the shaft lose some of its tautness. Then he stopped and just held it.

“Keep going,” Yilon panted. “I’m…”

Sinch nuzzled his neck. “It’s okay,” he said.

“No, really. Keep going.”

Sinch did, but slowly, caressing up and down rather than pumping.

“You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?”

Yilon snorted, then sagged back to the bed. “It’s all so complicated.”

Sinch traced a claw down his sheath, over the soft-furred sac, and back up the shaft. “Don’t worry about all that,” he said. “It’s a long way away.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yilon said.

Sinch nuzzled his chest. “I’ve gotten wet before,” he said, closing his paw around the fox’s shaft again.

“Sinch…”

“Hush.” Sinch started again, stroking up and down. “You’re not married yet.”

“But…”

“You’re not even Lord Dewanne. You’re just Yilon. And I’m Sinchon. And here we’re together, and that’s all.” He squeezed a bit and flicked his thumb over Yilon’s tip.

“Mmm.” Yilon rested his head by Sinch’s ear and exhaled softly, a breath that might have contained the words “love you” in a deep whisper, or might not, but Sinch felt their warmth regardless. He felt a pressure in his throat, and he had to tell himself to calm down, not to be silly. He’d just told Yilon not to worry about the future, and here he was failing to follow his own advice. Clear your head, his teachers had told him, though in the context of very different activities than the one he was currently applying himself to. This is the moment, he told himself. Let the future be the future. And the pressure in his eyes subsided, though the warmth in his chest remained, and he moved with Yilon, his paw teasing and then stroking, the fox’s length warm and hard and wonderful inside it, his knot now growing larger and tighter.

This time, when Yilon began to whimper, and Sinch felt the full hardness of the erection in his paw, there was no delay, no retreat from climax. His breath came in hot, whuffing pants against Sinch’s ear, his paw squeezed Sinch’s rear, and his back arched. Sinch kept his paw’s strokes going even as Yilon groaned and strained, his body shaking, and wetness bloomed on Sinch’s paw and stomach fur. “Huh… huh…” Yilon panted, his shaft spasming in Sinch’s paw.

And then the moment was over, leaving behind the warmth and musk. Sinch pressed up against Yilon, bringing his paw to his muzzle to lick it clean as Yilon hugged him fiercely. “Ow,” he said, releasing Sinch from the hug without moving away.

Sinch had to giggle. “Be careful!”

“Just pressed on my stomach here,” Yilon said. “It’s nothing. It’s…” He took Sinch’s ear in his lips, chewing playfully on it while Sinch squirmed happily. “It’s your turn, is what it is.”

“If you’re tired,” Sinch began, but Yilon pressed his shoulder against Sinch’s muzzle, cutting off the words.

 
Yilon was tired, is body drained after the tension and climax, but he had to return the favor for poor Sinch, after all the mouse had been through—after all they’d both been through. And as Sinch had said, this was now, and he wasn’t married yet. So he pushed at Sinch’s trousers, ignoring the little pains in his shoulder and abdomen, until he’d manage to get the pants mostly off. His own shaft was still dripping as he pushed Sinch onto his back, resting on his side next to the mouse and rubbing through his stomach fur.

Sinch was considerably dirtier than he was, and probably not just because he hadn’t gotten cleaned twice by Colian. Even his stomach fur felt gritty and dusty. His hips shivered as Yilon’s paw moved down to them, and again he tried to protest, and again Yilon silenced him. Dear Sinch, always trying to please him. No matter how often Yilon told him that he enjoyed getting him off, Sinch didn’t quite seem to believe it.

He did enjoy it, though, liked playing with Sinch and feeling the pleasure coursing through the body next to him as if it were his own, breathing in the delightful scent of climax, curling up beside him afterwards. Enjoy it while you can, an inner voice warned again. Yilon ignored it. He brushed the back of his paw over Sinch’s sheath, and then up the already-showing length resting on his stomach.

Sinch’s arm, at his side, was resting in just the right spot for his paw to fall on Yilon’s sheath. His fingers curled lightly around it, but just holding, not stroking, and the warmth was nice, so Yilon didn’t protest. He brushed his finger pads across Sinch’s sheath and then took the warm shaft in his paw, giving it a squeeze before starting to rub lightly up and down.

Originally, Yilon had thought he would take Sinch into his mouth, but the gritty, rough feel of the fur under his paw gave him pause. Sinch was fully hard already and his body shivering, so Yilon slowed his strokes, holding the slender erection firmly. The activity held his tiredness in abeyance, his fur tingling as though it were his sheath being rubbed and teased, as though his body were building to climax again through the glow of the one that had just passed.

So he took his time, lazily sliding his paw up and down the firm hardness, listening to Sinch’s breathing get heavier. Through all of that, Sinch’s fingers didn’t tighten on Yilon’s sheath. They just rested there, maintaining their warm connection. Yilon traced his claws down around his friend’s sac, then back along the shaft before grasping it and stroking again, a little faster now. He’d almost forgotten how Sinch’s smell changed while they were intimate, the familiar mousy scent, now covered with sewer overtones, becoming deeper, more rich. It wasn’t the musky smell of seed; that would come later. It was just Sinch, flooding Yilon’s nostrils and filling his head.

Now the muskiness crept in, just as his fingers felt dampness at the tip of the shaft. He rubbed it as Sinch had rubbed his, thumb brushing across it, and now he got a squeak with each breath, next to his shoulder. He let the mouse’s pleasure build slowly, looking down his muzzle at Sinch’s closed eyes and parted lips. His tail wagged again, sending a spark of pain along his spine, but he suppressed any exclamation this time.

Sinch pressed up close to him, head turned to pant into Yilon’s chest fur. Yilon nuzzled the soft ear, breathing in the scent of him, pressing close to feel the tension in Sinch’s shoulder, listening to the rapid panting. Abruptly he lifted his torso, curling forward, and lifted Sinch’s shaft with his paw. Before the mouse could make more than a move in response, Yilon had closed his lips around the tip of his shaft, lapping the salty fluid from it and then lowering his muzzle to suck firmly on it.