Page 112 of King's Warrior

Niam shook his head. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“Of course it was. Mothers feed their sons, and I expect you’ve not eaten well on the road.” She gave them both an up-and-down perusal. “You’ve both lost weight. The clothing I ordered might not even fit you. Now, I’ll leave and let you two attend to business.”

She’d no sooner left than Rufe threw Niam against the settee. “I’ve been watching your ass flex in those trousers for the last half hour. Take them off.”

“Shouldn’t we bathe first?”

“Soldiers aren’t discouraged by a bit of dirt.” Rufe urged Niam’s mouth open and darted his tongue inside.

Before Niam could completely pull down his trousers, Rufe took Niam’s suddenly interested cock into his hand.

Niam moaned, gripping the edges of the settee and thrusting his hips upward. Nothing better than an enthusiastic lover. Rufe slowly worked his hand over Niam’s shaft, sliding his tongue along the underside of Niam’s jaw. Pre-come trickled from Niam’s cock, adding to the slickness of Rufe’s grip. Despite Niam’s objections, he didn’t smell dirty, just the mustiness of a man, filling Rufe’s senses, making him want things they currently didn’t have time for.

Niam worked his fingers into Rufe’s curls, holding him in place, ravaging his mouth, and thrusting erratically, inadvertently pullingRufe’s hair. Oh, how Rufe loved things rough in the bedroom. He redoubled his efforts, moans vibrating from his tongue.

Niam whimpered and cried out, “That’s amazing! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop.”

Not even a possibility. Rufe reached into his own trousers, stroking his cock in time with Niam’s. Oh yes! He wanted Niam’s passion, needed it, and might die if deprived.

With a final whine, fingers gripped tightly in Rufe’s hair, Niam spurted into Rufe’s fist. When he flopped back onto the settee, Rufe reared back, stroking himself hard. Gods, if he didn’t cum soon, he might…. “Ahhh….” Rufe shot spunk onto Niam’s trousers, his tunic, and on his now-flaccid cock.

Oh. Was sex always this good when a lover stuck around? Or maybe only this particular lover made Rufe fly. He flopped his body into Niam’s lap, knees still on the floor, and allowed himself a few moments of boneless ecstasy, Niam gently petting his hair.

Rufe didn’t know how long he lay there, finding peace amid a storm, but after a while, Niam squirmed.

“We need to bathe and dress. Mother will be back soon.”

Mother. She’d referred to Rufe as a son. So much acceptance came as a shock, but he could surely adjust with time.

He rose, helped Niam finish undressing, and paced while Niam bathed. If he watched, they might never get dressed. Niam relinquished the tub to Rufe and rifled through the clothing. “This must be yours. It’s too large for me.”

As long as it wasn’t the reeking tunic Rufe had once borrowed from a Renvallian noble when they’d captured the castle, he’dcope. He wasn’t expecting a blue velvet tunic carefully stitched with ivy vines and dyed deer hide trousers in a slightly darker shade.

Niam wore similar attire in shades of green—perfect to set off his copper hair, green eyes, and fair skin. His footwear resembled slippers more than boots, not made for outdoor use.

“Sit,” Niam commanded, waving a hairbrush once Rufe finished dressing.

Rufe sat. Oh, by the goddess, those bristles through his hair felt divine. He moaned, tipping his head to get the brush to the right spot.

Niam chuckled. “You’re worse than Uri.” He slicked Rufe’s hair away from his face, humming with satisfaction, and faced the mirror.

He stared over Rufe’s shoulder. They were so different in build, coloring, bone structure, and height, but what a sight they made together. They’d catch eyes for sure wherever they went.

Last, Rufe donned a belt and sword much finer than his own. Nearly as fine as the one Draylon gifted to him seasons ago.

“This weapon belonged to my great-uncle,” Niam said. “He was a renowned warrior, too. Mother honors you with the gift.”

“It’s too beautiful to defile with the blood of enemies.” Rufe ran his hand over the pommel, inlaid with an emerald the size of his thumb.

“Uncle would be disappointed if you didn’t. Although it’s finely crafted, it is a formidable weapon.”

Rufe removed the sword from the sheath, testing its weight in a few practice swings. The weapon seemed made for his hand and recently sharpened. He re-sheathed the polished steel, more a work of art than a tool for death. “Hopefully, I’ll not need it soon.”

A tap came to the door, followed by Nera entering, holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re dressed, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” Niam answered in put-upon tones.

Nera peeked through her fingers for a moment and dropped her hand. “Oh, goodness. You two look even better than I imagined. The very vision of what a king and consort should be.” She dropped a basket on a low table. “Eat, as I don’t imagine you’ll feel much like eating later.”

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