Cross Purposes (Chronicles of Ylandre, Book 5) (20 page)

The pillow inadequately muffled his incoherent cries. The world was reduced to the relentless shove of thick flesh up his backside, the repeated caress of his shaft and seed sac and the constant swipe of tongue and seal of lips to his nape, shoulders, and upper back. As the sensations spiraled wildly along with whatever was left of his coherence, he struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity. He desperately attempted to stifle the sounds that escaped him and clutched at the silken beddings and downy pillow with frantic determination.

Keosqe unexpectedly pulled him up and onto his lap to straddle his thighs. Startled, Tristen looked back at Keosqe over his shoulder whereupon he was captured in a scalding kiss. Forced to ride the shaft that impaled him while kissed and fondled to breathlessness, he knew himself defeated, his wits and control scattered to the four winds.

Past caring how he appeared and caught up in the ecstasy of his impalement, Tristen broke the kiss so that he could focus on pushing down on Keosqe’s lap to take in his shaft as deeply as possible. That wrenched Keosqe’s control away in turn and the noble thrust hard into him, spilling himself copiously inside Tristen. As liquid warmth coated his innards, Tristen climaxed as well, thin ribbons of semen spurting from his shaft to coat Keosqe’s fist and his own straining thighs. He keened in delight, forgetting to keep his feelings to himself and revealing the full extent of his pleasure for once.

Once the wondrous sensations subsided, Tristen slumped in his lover’s arms, utterly spent. Keosqe lifted him off his lap and gently laid him down on his side. After shedding his clothes, he lay behind Tristen and pulled him into the curve of his body. Too drained to speak or move, Tristen did not balk when Keosqe ran his hand over his flushed form, smoothing his palm over his flank and hip and caressing his chest and belly. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the sensual sensations.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Keosqe murmured in his ear before running his tongue along its delicate rim.

Tristen shivered slightly at the tantalizing caress. “It was … nice enough,” he managed to say in between sharply indrawn breaths. Realizing how ungracious that probably sounded, he added, “One can tell you’re very experienced.”

“Experienced?”

Something in Keosqe’s voice warned him the noble was not pleased with his choice of words.

“What I mean is, you’re a consummate lover,” Tristen quickly amended. “And thus far the only one I need,” he offered to further smooth any ruffled feelings.

When Keosqe did not respond at once, Tristen worried that he’d given serious offense. But then Keosqe quietly said, “I’d be more pleased if you were to say I’m the only lover you
want
.”

Surprised, Tristen glanced back.
He looks a little sad
, Tristen thought with some regret. He turned around to face Keosqe.

“I’m still finding my way, Kes-
tyar
,” he reasoned. “Verily, I never imagined that we would become … involved like this. And I thought no one could ever … I mean would be able to take Veare’s place. So this is all still so new to me … so unexpected. I’m not sure I’m ready to … But rest assured, I do like you.” He hesitated and then added, “I think I could learn to love you … as you deserve.”

Keosqe’s eyes lit up at his declaration. “Verily, I look forward to that day. But for now, I’ll make do with this.”

Tristen gasped when Keosqe rolled him on his back and moved atop him. With a deft shift of his hips, he fit himself between Tristen’s thighs, compelling him to spread them wide. He cupped Tristen’s face in his hands and kissed his lips gently, almost chastely.

“You really don’t know how happy you make me, do you?” he whispered, his eyes a-gleam with something close to reverence. Tristen’s throat tightened.

He was not sure what he’d done to deserve Keosqe’s regard, but he could not deny it thrilled him to be the recipient of the noble’s love. Whether he would be able return it as completely was still uncertain, but Tristen had to admit there was much joy and satisfaction to be had in yielding himself in utmost intimacy to this handsome, seductive, and oh so maddeningly charismatic Deir.

Chapter 12

Appeasement

Rikara in the 3010th year of the Common Age

Keosqe watched Tristen walk down the pedestrian lane with his friend Mirdan as they left the University grounds. Engrossed in whatever they were discussing, neither youth noticed the Deilen coach parked a little way down the avenue obscured by another carriage. Keosqe frowned and sat back with a sigh.

Why did he feel as if Tristen had turned a little rebellious these last few months—refusing to ride or walk home with him even on the coldest days, dining out with his friends sometimes as often as thrice a week and spending an inordinate amount of time with that tow-haired upstart? He chided himself for the last uncharitable thought. It was not Mirdan Sivash’s fault Tristen enjoyed his company even as he apparently no longer cared as much for Keosqe’s.

The youth still spent evenings with him in the study talking about his day over wine and the occasional sweet. And he still warmed Keosqe’s bed and sundry other places fit for coupling often enough to keep their relationship nicely simmering. But there were times Keosqe felt that Tristen’s thoughts were elsewhere. Or maybe even his heart.

The notion had come to him after hearing Tristen voice his admiration for Mirdan one time too many for his comfort. Indeed, the youth was openly affectionate when it came to his friend. Granted that affection was platonic, but he was more expressive about his feelings with Mirdan than he’d ever been with Keosqe.

As he had since the start of their affair, he wondered whether Tristen slept with him primarily out of a sense of obligation. As payment for room and board so to speak. Keosqe grimaced. The thought was profoundly depressing.

* * * *

“What do you think interested Lord Keosqe in you?” Mirdan asked as he and Tristen awaited a public coach.

“Veres only knows,” Tristen replied. “I sometimes ask that myself. I mean, there isn’t anything special about me beyond my healing ability.”

“Perhaps it’s your looks? Maybe he has a penchant for dark hair and dusky complexions?”

“Nay, he’s dallied with many fair-haired, light-complected Deira. Indeed, before I came along, they were his partners of choice.”

“Really? Then you’re an exception rather than the rule, eh?”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.” Tristen eyed his friend askance. “Why the interest in his preferences?”

Mirdan grinned. “Curiosity. You’re so critical of him even to his face—don’t deny it, I’ve seen you talk back to him many a time and not always politely. How you can be so snappish with someone like him amazes me. But anyway, I wondered why he puts up with you when you profess not to feel as much for him as he obviously does for you.”

Tristen looked down in discomfort. Was he so openly combative with Keosqe that other people had come to think him disdainful of his lover?

“Since you aren’t the greatest beauty in all Ylandre, it must be something else that holds him to you,” Mirdan continued musing. “I thought it must be because you fit his preferences perfectly. However, you say that isn’t the case at all, so that theory is out.” He shrugged. “It’s a mystery, that’s what it is.”

Feeling a need to defend his position, Tristen said, “Well, we have similar tastes in books and music. And he says I make him laugh a lot.”

“Is that so? Interesting. A Deir who chooses his partners for their jests.”

“That isn’t what I said!”

“Of course it wasn’t, thickhead. I was only teasing. My, but you seriously need to hone your sense of humor!”

Tristen pouted. “That wasn’t the least bit funny.”

Mirdan raised his hands in mock defeat. “Don’t get all huffy now. I meant no harm.” His eyes suddenly brightened and a smile curved his mouth. “Ah, I think our plans for the evening are about to change.” He nodded at someone behind Tristen. “Good afternoon, my lord. Are you here to fetch Tris?”

Tristen whirled around to face Keosqe. He opened his mouth to demand why he had come despite being told earlier not to. But something in Keosqe’s eyes stopped him. Did he imagine it or had Keosqe looked apprehensive for a moment there? As if he were bracing himself. Tristen flushed. Bracing for a scolding?

“That will depend on him,” Keosqe replied. He glanced questioningly at Tristen.

Red-faced, Tristen quickly said, “Thank you, Kes-
tyar
. That’s kind of you to go out of your way for me. It is terribly cold today.” The look of surprise on Keosqe’s face made him feel even guiltier. It seemed Mirdan had not been so far off the mark. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mir,” he hurriedly told his friend. He turned back to Keosqe and gestured sidewise to the carriage across the street. “Shall we go?”

Keosqe regarded him searchingly. At length, he sighed and nodded. Tristen followed him to the carriage, puzzled by his lover’s pensiveness.
Did I say something that upset him
?

* * * *

They did not talk during the ride home nor did Keosqe say much as they ate supper. And when he asked Tristen if he would join him in the study, it was without the suggestive tone that indicated they would do more than talk. In fact, it almost sounded as if that was
all
he wished to do. Talk.

When he entered the study a half hour later, the first thing he noticed was Keosqe had seated himself at his desk rather than on the couch or at the card table. Uncertain about what his lover intended for the evening, Tristen settled himself on the couch and waited.

“I take it you’ve been spending more time in the infirmary nowadays,” Keosqe suddenly said.

Tristen looked at him with a start. “Yes, I’ve started training in earnest.”

“That is good. And your friends? How are they faring?”

“Well enough though Melande is struggling through his ancient literature class.”

“But he’ll make it?”

“I certainly hope so. His parents’ patience might wear out soon. He should have graduated last term.”

“And Mirdan? Is he truly going to become a teacher?”

“Oh, definitely. He’s bent on becoming the best there is. And when he puts his mind to something, you can be assured he’ll accomplish it. Never have I met anyone as tenacious as he. I rather wish I could be like that.”

“You are. Else you wouldn’t have gotten this far in your studies.”

“But I’m just an average student who happened to be lucky enough to have been born with a rare talent. Everything Mirdan has achieved is due to his own efforts. If there’s anyone we all ought to emulate, it’s him.”

“You admire him so.”

Tristen warily peered at Keosqe, his suspicions roused by the hollowness of the noble’s tone. While he had never downright disparaged Mirdan, it was obvious Keosqe did not like the youth either. Or rather he resented having to share the pleasure of Tristen’s company with Mirdan.

“Anyone who appreciates industriousness would admire him,” Tristen pointed out. “Don’t you?”

“Appreciate your friend?” Keosqe rose to his feet. “Nay.”

Tristen rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant, Kes-t
yar
.”

“I know you extol his virtues readily and at length,” Keosqe snapped.

Startled into silence by Keosqe’s sudden rancor, Tristen watched him walk to the liquor cabinet. Keosqe opened the cabinet and took out a crystal flute and a tall bottle, the latter’s contents obscured by the brown paper still partially wrapped around it. He filled the flute from the bottle and then joined Tristen on the couch. He silently placed the glass on the low table in front of them.

Tristen stared at the bright blue liquid in the flute with some dismay.
Mirash
? He glanced uncertainly at Keosqe. Why this sudden offering of the Deiran conception suppressor? Did this mean Keosqe wanted to take him in reproductive union? The glitter in Keosqe’s eyes answered his unspoken question.

“Why?” he shakily asked.

Keosqe’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Must there be a reason for this other than desire for full union with one’s lover?”

“But I don’t—” Tristen stopped when the glitter was replaced by a muted gleam.

“You don’t want this?” Keosqe softly finished for him. “Have you tired of me? Of our affair? If you’d rather end it, say so now while I can still bear the loss.”

Tristen gaped at him in shock. “What makes you think I want to end it?”

“What am I to conclude from the many times you’ve avoided my company?” Keosqe said. “You spend more time nowadays, even most evenings, with your friends. And especially Mirdan,” he added, slight bitterness underlining his tone.

“Nay, I don’t go around much with Mirdan,” Tristen denied.

He swallowed hard at how easily the lie came out. But he saw no benefit in telling Keosqe the truth; only increased possessiveness on his lover’s part and with that a further curtailing of his freedom to do things or meet with other people as he saw fit.

“If I’ve been scarce these past weeks, it’s due to my studies,” he said while ignoring the roiling in his innards that was a consequence of the deceptions he’d been maintaining for a goodly while now.

“Just your studies?” Keosqe shook his head. “Even Eiren had time to spend with us when he was at university. Why not just be honest about it and tell me you wish to break with me? I’d rather face our parting now than later.”

“I don’t want to break with you,” Tristen insisted. “I don’t understand why you think I do.”

“The sides of a triangle are not always the same length,” Keosqe muttered.

Tristen stared. “What?”

“If you treated us equally, I wouldn’t be so concerned. But as it is…” Keosqe exhaled slowly. “Sometimes, I wonder why you’re still with me. Not that I want you to leave, but neither do I care to keep you here under duress.”

“You didn’t force me to stay,” Tristen protested.

“Coerce, then?”

“Nay!” Tristen gazed at him in confusion. “Why are you saying these things?”

“What is Mirdan Sivash to you?”