Page 51 of Paladin's Hope

“Only when we think you’ll hurt yourself.”

Galen grumbled and reached out, drawing the other man close. “Here,” he said, pulling Piper more or less into his lap, his legs braced on either side. “Lean back.”

Piper obeyed, his back against Galen’s chest. Galen could feel the tautness of his muscles and set to work soothing them, sliding his hands in aimless patterns across Piper’s arms, then under his shirt to the smooth, flat muscle of his chest. “Relax,” Galen murmured in his ear. “You’ve already had your hands all over me. Allow me to return the favor.”

Slowly, Piper’s tension eased, and then was replaced with a different type of tension. Galen could feel the quiver whenever his hands slid lower. It would be lovely to do this somewhere with a bed, where we aren’t sitting on hard ivory with our backsides going numb. Ah well. Next time, perhaps. He stopped teasing Piper and reached down to take him firmly in hand.

The position was a trifle awkward, but they made it work. Piper, Galen discovered, was not quiet. He gasped and yelped and moaned, all of which Galen found delightful. You do like to know you’re having an effect.

He was definitely having an effect. Piper thrashed as Galen stroked him, until the paladin had to wrap an arm around his chest to hold him in place. He could feel the doctor’s heart pounding like a drum under his wrist. Galen murmured something—praise, encouragement, obscenities, it hardly mattered what—feeling Piper’s body draw tight as a bowstring. He slowed his movements, hoping to draw out the moment, but Piper clutched at his legs and thrust into his hand. Oh, I see. Well, in that case… Galen nipped the back of his neck and the doctor let out a final choking cry, hips bucking. Shudders wracked his body until he collapsed back, limp and wrung out and damp with sweat.

Galen rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder, listening to the hard rasp of Piper’s breathing, and felt the warm glow of a job well done.

“You’re right,” said Piper finally, when he had gotten his breath back. “We really should not have waited.”

“Mmm.” Galen kissed the back of his neck, smoothing over the small red mark he’d made. Part of him wanted to start all over again. Another, rather larger part, pointed out that he was middle-aged and that it had been a dismally long day, with only an hour of disturbed sleep earlier. The spirit was willing, but the spongiform erectile tissue was weak.

Still, it was good to sit here with his arms around Piper. It felt…peaceful. Galen could not remember the last time he had felt peace. Since before the god died, certainly. Back then, he had been secure in the knowledge that he was an attack dog on a god’s leash, and the god would not let him slip the leash until it was time. It had been easy then. Very little had been easy since.

But this…this was easy. The weight of Piper’s body, the way his ribs moved under Galen’s arms as he breathed, the prickle of short dark hair against Galen’s cheek. The paladin did not have to do anything. He could sit and simply exist and know that Piper was safe and in his arms and he did not have to be afraid.

Eventually, of course, his body began to grumble. Galen let out a jaw-cracking yawn. “As much as I would like to continue this, we should get cleaned up and I should go and fall down somewhere. Will you be all right?”

“Yes, of course.” Piper turned in his arms and kissed him. “Hopefully tomorrow we’ll be out of this mess and can go somewhere with blankets and an actual mattress.”

“I would do terrible things for a mattress,” said Galen. “But I will have to settle for doing terrible things to you on a mattress, when the opportunity presents itself.” He brushed his lips across Piper’s forehead and pushed himself to his feet.

He looked down at the doctor, still flushed and smiling, and did not even dare to dream of curling up around him to sleep. But perhaps he could dream of holding him again.

“Something wrong?” asked Piper, looking up at him.

That wasn’t enough. That should have been enough, but it wasn’t. I want more of you. “No,” said Galen. “Nothing at all.”

On the bright side, he thought, going to the next alcove and settling in with his back to the cool ivory wall, even if I have another round of nightmares, I’ll be too damn tired to try to kill anyone tonight.

Twenty-Two

Piper woke the next morning—or whatever passed for morning in this place where the light was all the same—feeling both stiff and ungodly smug.

The source of the stiffness was immediately obvious. He’d been sleeping on the floor again, his pillow was now shredded into bandage material, and his back was informing him that what had been acceptable at twenty was no longer acceptable when one could see forty on the horizon.

The source of the smugness took a moment longer, but then he heard Galen’s voice and it all came rushing back to him. Galen’s hands on his flesh. His hands on Galen’s, for that matter. Also his mouth and…well, it had been a good night. Fraught and fumbling and much too fast for both of them, admittedly, but the relief of knowing that the wanting was mutual—that was worth a great deal.

And he said he’d want to do it again. That’s worth even more. Assuming we don’t die horribly in the next few hours.

Piper believed in the gods, of course. They were obviously there, so not believing in them would be remarkably silly, like not believing in wind. He had reason to be fond of the White Rat, and most doctors invoked the Lady of Grass, who was well-known as a healer. Generally, though, he believed that gods worked through people rather than engaging in direct intervention.

Still, it couldn’t hurt. Lady of Grass, he prayed, bowing his head. White Rat. Please let us get out of this alive. Please don’t kill us just when I’ve found the first man I’ve been interested in for ages who’s also interested in me. It would be very unkind.

Then he climbed to his feet and went to where Galen and Earstripe were sitting, counting out the remaining apples for breakfast.

“You’re awake,” said Galen, and smiled up at him. His eyes were warm jade this morning. Piper sat down next to him, closer than he’d ever dared before, and Galen reached out and put a hand on his lower back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well.”

“A gnole slept well too,” said Earstripe sardonically, “eventually.”

Heat rose in Piper’s cheeks. He hadn’t even thought about Earstripe overhearing them. Galen only snorted and tossed an apple at the gnole’s head. Earstripe caught it and took a bite out of it.

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