Bee Among the Clover (221 page)

Aron gasped against Roman’s mouth as he began to scissor his fingers, and his arms stole around Roman. His hands started touching, moving over him the way they had wanted to. He pulled Roman closer, thrusting his hips up in demand.
The sensation of Roman preparing him, the knowledge that his darkling was going to make love to him, stole his breath, relaxing his body around his fingers. He trembled when those fingers nudged the spot deep inside that sent fire along his spine. He’d never known any but Wulfgar in this way, and he was insatiably curious to know how it would differ with Roman. The idea sent a sharp flutter of excitement through his stomach, and he couldn’t deny his desire. He ached, a nice, sweet ache begging to be filled.
Roman moaned against Aron’s lips, his body twisting into Aron’s roaming hands. His darkling tasted so sweet. Aron had known women who tasted sweet, but he’d never imagined a man could taste like this, like honey melting on his tongue. He felt even better, his skin like silk that had been left in the sun, warm to the touch and alive under his fingers.
Aron broke the kiss and grabbed for the bottle of oil, pouring some onto his palm. He began stroking Roman’s cock, spreading the oil over him. His darkling moaned, his fingers pausing long enough to work a third finger into him before thrusting again.
Aron shuddered. It was so close to what he wanted. His fingers slipped from Roman’s oil-slicked cock to run over his balls. He captured Roman’s wrist and smirked at him when Roman’s eyes widened as if he were worried he was doing something wrong. “Marcus, darkling, I need you, not your fingers.”
Roman blinked down at him and then smiled in return. “I need you, too, Aron, only you know how much.”
Aron’s arms wrapped around him, and Roman gasped when he rolled them over. He dropped his mouth down onto Roman’s and shuddered at how pliant his mouth was. Aron was so hungry for him, and he knew Roman wouldn’t protest if he made love to him instead.
He sat up, smiling at the look of surprise that flashed across Roman’s face when he straddled his hips. His darkling shuddered when he wrapped his hand around Roman’s cock and guided him to his entrance. His body throbbed, thrumming for more, needing it with a fire that startled him. Keeping his eyes locked with Roman’s, he slowly sank down with a groan.
It was such a different feeling from when he was with the thane. He’d learned to enjoy his experiences, though he never craved sex with Wulfgar as he did with Roman. The sensation of being filled by Roman was overwhelming. It was as if they’d come around full circle and Roman was claiming him in return as surely as he’d ever claimed his darkling.
The slave closed his eyes as Aron settled his hips, drawing his upper lip into his mouth and gnawing on it. Aron reached down and caressed his cheek, his heart tripping as Roman’s eyes opened and he saw the vulnerability in them. His darkling drew in a shaky breath and slid his hands over Aron’s thighs. Aron began to rock his hips, not tearing his eyes away. They both needed that connection.
Roman bit his upper lip as Aron leaned over him, a mischievous smile on his lips as he drove his hips down. Roman gasped, arching up. The heat was unimaginable, that snug tight inferno surrounding him and stealing his breath. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he knew it was because it was Aron, not the position or who was taking whom, but just that it was him and Aron, and no matter how they came together, it was right. Even when he’d tried to deny what he was feeling, it had been so.
Aron clenched and Roman panted, shuddering. “Jesu, Aron.”
He craved Aron’s touch, his kisses, like he craved nothing else. There was nothing to compare him to. Aron took his reality and turned it inside out and made him look at things in a different light, opened his eyes to possibilities that before he’d never have considered. Only Aron gave him that, and he was so immensely grateful for it that there weren’t words.
Roman’s hands slid higher, wrapping around Aron’s hips, steadying him as he worked himself on his cock. Aron’s face was drawn with pleasure, his eyes half-closed, watching him with such heat that Roman whimpered. This man, with so much pride and fire, made his heart ache; he made Roman want to cherish him and trust him in a way that he trusted no other.
“Darkling, you have no idea how amazing you feel.”
Roman smiled, lifting himself up enough to press a kiss to the pulse on Aron’s throat. “And you have no idea, my love, how much this means to me.” He lay back down, groaning as Aron followed, sliding his arms under him. He pressed his forehead to Aron’s, drinking in his spirit, letting it wash over him.
Aron shuddered, their eyes locked as they moved together. Almost more than the physical pleasure was the euphoric feeling sweeping through him that Roman was gifting him with this different kind of surrender, which was only theirs, untainted by anything or anyone else. Aron’s hips moved harder, and he moaned as Roman writhed under him.
“Marcus, you feel so good, darkling,” he whispered, trapped in the dark pools of Roman’s eyes. He knew more than ever before that there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for his darkling. He’d give him anything, if only to see him look at him like that.
Roman trembled, breath coming in panting, shivering gasps. It was a sweet and terrible madness, one Aron never wanted to relinquish. He clenched hard around Roman’s cock, feeling the shudder that went through the slim body beneath him, savoring Roman’s choked cry.
“Jesu, Aron, I need you. I love you.”
It was the first time Roman had said those words without prodding, without Aron saying them first. His body jolted, breath caught in his throat as Aron captured his lips in a searing kiss, breathing against them, “I love you too.”
He pulled back and gave Roman a wicked grin, pausing his hips long enough to guide Roman’s hand to his cock. “Now stroke me, love.”
Roman’s hand tightened on him, and Aron gasped, leaning back on one hand to steady himself as he began driving his hips again. His fingers curled into the rich mat of grass and clover, groaning as the new angle drove Roman’s cock into his spot. His body took over the rhythm, thrusting between the tight circle of his darkling’s fist and then impaling himself back, fast enough to make it hard for him to catch his breath. “Gods, Marcus….” He couldn’t think.
Aron’s wild cries were beautiful to Roman’s ears, and the smell of their sun-warmed flesh and arousal clung heavily to his nostrils. It was better than he had imagined. And as much as he wanted it to last longer, wanted it to last forever, he was having a hard time continuing to hang on. The combination of Aron’s silky heat clutching him and the strangeness of it all set his body on fire even more, burning him up, and he swore he was going to be a pile of ash by the time Aron was done with him.
Roman whimpered, the sound ragged. It was overwhelming, the combination of taking Aron like this, yet at the same time feeling like Aron was taking him as well. There weren’t words for it.
“Aron. Now.” He stroked his lover tight and fast as his own body tightened and his orgasm began to crash over him, no thought of permission or training, no struggle from his body or his mind. This was right, utterly right, and nothing existed but their shared pleasure. “Now, please, gods, Aron.”
Aron leaned over him again, his body strung taut as the first tremors shook him. “Darkling….” The rest of his words were cut off in a strangled groan, and Roman continued to stroke him until he felt Aron’s cock stop throbbing and his lover shuddered from the overstimulation.
They collapsed back into each other, panting and clinging in a tangle of limbs. Roman moaned, aftershocks still rippling through him, his nerves raw from the fury of their passion. He laid his head back against the grass, panting, his heart a rapid drum.
“Aron, sweet Jesu, you undo me.” He closed his eyes, his hand searching for Aron’s, and laced their fingers together, holding on tight. “I don’t want you to ever let go of me.” He said it without thought, clinging to the one person who made him feel whole.
Aron held Roman closer against him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I won’t, darkling… not ever of my own choice, I swear to you.”
Roman lifted his head, his eyes meeting Aron’s at the reminder that choices were not a luxury either of them had. But he refused to think of that right then. He was sorry he’d let it slip out at all, smiling and kissing Aron gently as he eased out of him and shifted to lay against his side, curled up against him. “I know, love. I know.”
Seeking something else to talk about, he tilted his head back, curiosity getting to him. “Will you tell me about while you were gone? What happened, where did you go, how did you get caught?” He wanted to know it all. He’d missed him so much, hoping there’d been good spots Aron could share, that their sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. No, that wasn’t right. Their separation had forced him to admit he loved Aron.
Roman also wondered if Aron had spoken with his father, though he was afraid to ask. Someone had to have told him his real name, for he knew he never had. Quickly, he dispelled that hope. It was much more likely someone else had read the letter for him or he’d found out in another way.
Aron smiled and kissed the top of Roman’s head again. “I have much to tell you, darkling, and have been waiting for the chance to be alone before I did.”
Aron started by telling of his travels south and his determination to make it to Roman’s father. He spoke of how much he missed Roman and of the ache and second thoughts he’d had. Roman’s eyes were intent on his face as he spoke, and Aron could see the answering, lingering pain in his gaze. But it felt good to talk about it, and he wanted Roman to know he’d never be replaced in his heart.
“All in all it took me several weeks to reach Londinium, and when I got there….” Aron stopped and sighed. “You might’ve warned me it was so big and filled with so many people. I didn’t know where to start.” The memory of the city was overwhelming, and to think, he’d have to return there someday. He shook his head, banishing his thoughts as Roman sat up.
“You made it!” Roman’s voice was breathless, and his eyes danced with excitement. “How did you find my father?”
Aron tensed. This was the part of the tale he wished he didn’t have to tell, and the light in Roman’s eyes made it even harder. “I tried asking, but people weren’t exactly the friendliest of sorts. I was standing outside a shop trying to figure out what to do next when a woman—she owned the shop—came out and asked me, well, told me, really, to come eat something.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Cate was unlike any woman he’d ever known, and before Roman, he might’ve found himself more than intrigued by her.
Aron continued on, “She seemed educated. She’d have to be to own a shop, I assumed, so I asked her to read your letter, hoping it’d tell me something more of how to find your family. It did, in a way; Cate, the woman, recognized your father’s name.” Reaching out for Roman’s hands, Aron shook his head at the excited look in his dark eyes.
“Darkling, I’m sorry. Your father, he looked for you, and would’ve found you I believe, but he… he died, darkling. Not many months after you were captured.”
Something in Aron’s expression warned Roman even before the words hit him with stunning force. He clung to Aron’s hands as he tried to assimilate the news under the tumult of emotions. Relief that his father had tried to find him, hopelessness that he wouldn’t be able to help him get free, fury at his selfish reaction, and most of all, sorrow. He’d never get to see him again. He’d never get to show him all of the things he learned or get the chance to make him proud of him again, to make up for all of his wrongs.
Roman’s eyes burned, and he dropped his forehead down onto Aron’s shoulder, vaguely feeling his lover’s arms come around him. He was numb. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream. Everything seemed locked up inside of him. Then guilt washed over him, and his hands curled hard around Aron’s biceps. “Did he… how…?” Oh Jesu, what if he’d died searching for him?
Aron hated the shuttered look that came into Roman’s eyes. He knew how his darkling closed himself off from everything when he was hurting. Aron gathered him close, trying to offer him some measure of comfort. “He was sick, darkling.”
He tugged Roman’s chin up, desperate to see his eyes. Something about the stillness of Roman’s body worried him. The guilt and selfloathing written on his darkling’s face made him want to cry. “No, darkling. It wasn’t your fault.”
Roman didn’t say anything, and Aron cupped his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. “Marcus, listen to me. Look at me. Your father loved you. He searched every day you were gone. He wanted you safe. He wanted you happy. He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame and hate yourself for something you had no control over.”
Roman shook his head, gaze hard on Aron’s. “I had control. I left the villa. I thought I was a man when I was just a boy. I didn’t listen to him. If I’d been there, he might not have died.”
Aron shook his head harder, his brows furrowing and eyes intent. “No. Darkling, don’t. You aren’t a miracle worker, nor are you a seer. You had no way to know and you had no way to help. You survived, which is what your father would’ve wanted you to do.”
Roman stared at him before shifting, arms coming around Aron, and burying his face in his neck, voice muffled and shaky. “I don’t want to just survive anymore, Aron.” He looked up into his lover’s eyes, his own pleading. “You make me feel alive.”
Aron’s resolve firmed. “And I’m going to spend every day continuing to make you feel that way, Marcus.” There was no force that was going to make him leave Roman behind. He didn’t know how he was going to accomplish it, but when he left, if he left, his darkling was coming with him.
Roman said nothing for a moment, and then his brows snapped together, as if something had just occurred to him. “Aron, if you were in Londinium, how did Aethlyn catch you?”
Aron was surprised at the sudden change of conversation, and he searched Roman’s face, making sure he wasn’t pulling in on himself again. Finally satisfied, he shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I know not. He must’ve recognized me somewhere along the way and followed me. I don’t remember much except falling asleep in Cate’s workroom and then waking up on the boat.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed, and his voice became fierce. “Did he touch you?”
Aron shook his head, drawing Roman close again. “No, darkling, he didn’t. I suppose he thought his reward would be greater if he returned me unharmed.” He wondered if that had turned out to be true. What kind of reward had Wulfgar given the battle-lord for his part in foiling Aron and Roman’s plans?