The Rusted Sword (6 page)

Thankfully, after Moshe had left, Frederick had quickly indicated to the servants to keep the wine and mead flowing. While the duels continued, the volume of cries and speaking in the hall rose conspicuously with each refilled glass in every reveler's hand. Their mirth only served to further Raleigh's spiral into self-loathing.

"And what about you, Lord Raleigh?" the baron asked loudly over the noise, obviously making an effort. He had looked quite pale when Raleigh had sat next to him after duel, and perhaps felt obligated to quell the awkward tension—not that Raleigh believed anyone felt uncomfortable. The court was all quite entertained with his and Moshe's antics. They always had been.

"What about me?" Raleigh replied gruffly.

"How is Chaylain fairing?"

"Chaylain can handle herself as well," Raleigh said, taking a sip of his mead. "They are mountain people, well adapted to the winter, and very quiet throughout." He glanced at the baron with a tired smile. "Like bears. They cause trouble during the warm seasons."

"Indeed?" the baron replied.

Just then, Raleigh heard a slight shift in the conversations around him. He looked up immediately to see Moshe walking back into the hall. He was out of his fighting garb, and instead was adorned a southern outfit—high brocade collar, stiff shoulders, gold trim all along the forest green silk. Raleigh clenched his jaw, close to grumbling. Although he enjoyed how these costumes lay open as they did, leaving a coy strip of the wearer's chest bear, he was always discomforted when Moshe wore them to court.

"Ah," the baron said, "does your husband often return to his homeland?"

Raleigh's lips thinned. "Occasionally." Nothing soured his mood more than talk of Moshe's "home," when his true home was Chaylain.

A cold dose of realization hit Raleigh all at once, however, at the baron's words. Was this some sort of sign? Some cruel way of Moshe telling Raleigh that he was leaving for the south? Raleigh stared at Moshe, trying to discern where his mood was.

He was sitting next to Frederick, smiling. He had
purposely
chosen not to sit next to Raleigh, an insult that sank deep in Raleigh’s chest.

All thoughts of the south flew away. Raleigh sat up straight, gripping his hand into a fist on the table as he watched Moshe speak so animatedly with Frederick—laying a hand on Frederick's arm.

Exhaling, Raleigh told himself to calm. He had no right to this jealousy …

Moshe laughed at something Frederick said, and then leaned in to whisper a reply into his ear.

Raleigh shot up, his chair clattering back. He heard the baron say "oh my," as he stalked all the way along the table up towards the dais where the head table sat. As he did, Moshe continued to speak with Frederick, not turning his head at all. When Raleigh reached him, he barely even looked up.

Pausing, hesitating, Raleigh stood there. Moshe continued to ignore him.

"Moshe," he said.

Finally glancing at Raleigh with a flat expression, Moshe said, "Yes?"

"May we speak outside?" Raleigh replied, his voice tight.

Moshe smiled. "No," he said. He turned back to Frederick, leaning in close to him. He had the gall to scoot from Raleigh, to slide a hand onto Frederick's shoulder.

Close to shaking, Raleigh dropped a palm on the table to loom over Moshe, and said into his ear, "You are
humiliating
me, husband. In front of the court."

Moshe glanced at him with narrowed eyes. "Do I care?"

At that, Raleigh snapped. He grabbed Moshe's arm and dragged him up.

In the next instant, Moshe slapped him right across the cheek.

There were some low gasps, and several chuckles, and from behind Moshe, Raleigh could see Frederick considering him with raised eyebrows—then Frederick turned away, lifting his glass to his lips as he said to the man on his other side, "And that is a household with no head." The other man laughed.

Raleigh's gaze moved from them to Moshe's face, and he saw the cruel, mocking smirk there—saw the challenge.

An intense flash of rage shocked him, but then Raleigh's lips spread into a smile of his own. "I've tolerated enough shameless disobedience from you," Raleigh said.

Moshe opened his mouth. Raleigh could just hear the biting retort, but it never came because Raleigh bent, grabbed Moshe, and lifted him over his shoulder. The surprised gasp was pleasing to Raleigh's ear, but he was most likely the only one to hear over the roar of laughing and jeering that had started up.

Ignoring the court of drunks, Raleigh looked down at Frederick. "You shouldn't encourage this childishness from Moshe, cousin. It only ends up worse for him in the long run."

"You bastard," Moshe said against his back, and it sounded so breathless. Raleigh simply patted his ass in reply.

Frederick shook his head, laughing. "Then keep your house in line, Raleigh."

Nodding at that, Raleigh turned and headed for the doorway of the main hall, Moshe attempting to squirm away from him the entire time. He could feel the court's eyes on him, all of the people witnessing who, at the end of the day, held authority at Chaylain. A few called out with humor, bidding Moshe to just give up; he had never been able to escape Raleigh before.

Raleigh's knee ached with an endless thrum, occasional bursts of sharp pain taking his breath away, but he kept walking.

Moshe was silent except for a few occasional grunts as he struggled while they headed down the hall towards their chambers. When his elbow landed with a pointed blow against Raleigh's back, Raleigh spanked him harshly.

Gasping, Moshe stilled. Raleigh did it again just to be clear, and he heard Moshe curse.

Kicking their door open, he shoved it closed again and went to their bed. He flipped Moshe forward over his shoulder, watching as he plopped down on the furs, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.

Breathing heavily, Raleigh observed him. And then Moshe launched a kick straight at Raleigh, his booted foot slamming into Raleigh's gut.

With a grunt, Raleigh grabbed Moshe's ankle and dragged him on to his back, forcing him to bend his knee towards his body, and Raleigh crowded over him, one palm braced on the mattress, the other still clutching Moshe's leg. He leaned in close, their noses almost touching, and stared straight into Moshe's eyes. "Are you finished?"

"I am so angry at you," Moshe replied. His voice was shaking.

"Then what was that show for?" Raleigh replied. "If not to have me drag you from the hall like some brute."

"Not about that!" Moshe snapped, slamming his fists against Raleigh's chest. "You have made me so lonely for too long."

Raleigh paused at that, at the hurt on Moshe's face. It matched the pain in his own chest. "I did not mean to," he said, the words coming out as a croak.

"And you have given up on us!" Moshe continued, tears pricking at his eyes.

"No …" Raleigh murmured, his expression crumpling, never having felt so miserable. It was an odd thing, having Moshe trapped beneath him, smelling his scent and seeing his face, but thinking Raleigh had no right to any of that. "I just can't … The thought of you leaving me has made me such a coward ..."

Moshe looked struck. "Why would I leave you?"

"Because you want a man who doesn't fear you, who can bring you to your knees …" Swallowing, Raleigh summoned the courage to admit his fears. "I can't beat you anymore, Moshe. Not with swords, not with racing, or anything else."

"Raleigh …" Moshe said, reaching up to palm Raleigh's cheek. "It would have been wearisome to keep that up forever. I never expected it."

"But I grow too weak to stand sometimes," Raleigh continued, for once wanting Moshe to know the true breadth of his feelings. "I cannot—will not have you take care of me. My pride—"

A thumb curled around his ear, Moshe staring straight up at him. "Then earn your pride back." Slowly shifting, raising his knees up on each side of Raleigh, he continued, "Each time you fall, each time I must help you up, I will anticipate your recourse."

Raleigh smiled, the affection he felt for Moshe swelling beyond reason. "You will bear my wounded ego?"

Smirking wickedly at that, Moshe replied, "I always have."

Leaning down, Raleigh pressed a feather-light kiss upon Moshe's lips, reaching back to slide a hand up the back of his thigh, lifting him slightly so that he and Raleigh could rub against each other. Crawling further onto the bed, sliding Moshe with him, he sat up, straddling Moshe, and started to unlace his tunic.

Moshe watched Raleigh and licked his lips.

"I am still stronger than you, you know," Raleigh said, his voice a low rumble.

"Yes, you are, my love," Moshe replied, his eyes flashing. "Strong enough to carry me over your shoulder."

"That's right," Raleigh said, dropping back down, gripping Moshe's arms and pinning him to the bed. He released one arm and slid his hand up Moshe's belly, feeling the smooth skin and watching avidly as each inch was revealed to him. He took a moment to rub a thumb over Moshe's nipple, looking back up at him.

Moshe's face was flushed. He had lifted his knees again, framing Raleigh with them. Raleigh chuckled indulgently at that. "You ache to be taken."

"Of course I do, bastard," Moshe replied. "How long have you made me wait?"

Raleigh grabbed his hips and ripped his pants away, tossing the ruined fabric to the side. Below him was Moshe's hard cock, and he palmed it, stroking it once—and then he clasped Moshe's thighs, spreading them and pushing them up to reveal Moshe's pink hole. He saw Moshe shiver and grinned. "Too long," Raleigh said. "My apologies."

"Bastard," Moshe repeated his favorite term of endearment for Raleigh.

At that, Raleigh shoved Moshe's knees all the way to his chest until he was completely exposed and vulnerable. He bowed his head to swipe his tongue against that pink hole, licking and plunging as Moshe gasped and cursed, writhing against Raleigh's grip. Each time he got too rambunctious, Raleigh would lean away and slap his ass until he calmed, which didn't last.

"Clearly it has been too long," Raleigh said, and he flipped Moshe to his stomach, dragging him back up with his ass presented. "You've forgotten how to be still like you should, it seems."

Moshe just wiggled his hips like a whore would, and Raleigh growled, slapping those pale cheeks. Gasping, Moshe ducked his face down against the crook of his elbow. "Just take me already," Raleigh heard him whine.

Indeed, Moshe's cock was thick and leaking between his legs. Raleigh huffed, his face heating at the sight of his husband bowed in front of him, the line of Moshe's back sloping up to his ass, his trembling thighs, his fingers kneading into the furs. Without entering him yet, Raleigh slid over Moshe, dropping down on an elbow so that he could press a kiss to the back of Moshe's neck. "I don't want to hurt you."

He heard an impatient grunt, and then Moshe shuffled up to the pillows, rooting around. Raleigh was astonished when he returned with a small pouch, inside of which was a vial of oil. Moshe's eyes gleamed as he handed it over.

Raleigh uncorked it. "Were you expecting this?" His mood soured somewhat. "Perhaps not with me—"

"Shut up." Moshe was back on his knees, looking over his shoulder from the corner of his eye. "I swear I will slaughter you if you ruin this moment with your pettiness."

Grin spreading, Raleigh answered Moshe's rude tone with a sharp smack to his ass. A flush bloomed on Moshe's pale skin as he gasped. "Speak to me in such a manner again, and you will find yourself over my knee," Raleigh said as he poured the oil into his palm.

"Yes, sir," Moshe replied without a single drop of sincerity. Raleigh chuckled.

He rubbed his cock, oiling it well, and then he leaned forward to slick a generous amount at Moshe's hole. Moshe pushed back against the touch, his entire body straining already, clearly in need. Moshe turned his head and looked at Raleigh again. "I do love you so much, Raleigh."

Nodding, unable to speak, Raleigh palmed his cock and nudged the blunt tip against Moshe's hole, biting his lip as he breached the entrance and a tight heat surrounded him. He wrapped an arm around Moshe's chest, pulling him in tight against Raleigh. And then Raleigh started thrusting into that heat—each time he shoved forward, Moshe groaned and whimpered.

He hoped that Moshe would forgive him for neglecting Moshe's cock, but he was so overwhelmed, moving to circle Moshe with both arms, fucking him harshly into the bed. Raleigh sucked in a breath, his eyes clenching as he felt release approach. Finally, he groaned, shooting deep inside his beloved Moshe.

Mouthing at Moshe's neck, he rode through the aftershocks of pleasure and finally had the presence of mind to move his hand down and start jacking Moshe's cock, Moshe arching back against him and whining for more.

He bit Moshe's ear, and then whispered, "Come, little love. You've pleased me—you may come."

Moshe gasped, digging his fingers into the furs. Raleigh could see teeth marks on his arm where he must have bit down at some point. And then he knew Moshe was coming, felt him tense all around Raleigh's cock, crying out.

Rubbing his palm soothingly against Moshe's belly, Raleigh closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek down on Moshe's back. They both slid down fully, and Raleigh carefully pulled himself out of Moshe, clasping his hip to then roll him back against Raleigh. Lying on their sides, they both panted for a bit, silent beyond that.