Bee Among the Clover (92 page)

R
OMAN glanced down into the yard. It was geglanced down into the yard. It was getting darker, and soon
Wulfgar would be looking for them, but they had a little bit of time left to them, and they weren’t likely to get caught if they moved further back into the trees. They could ask Wulfgar for permission later this night. If they
pleased him, he would be in an indulgent mood.
“You start with the basics,” Roman said, moving deeper into the trees and shrugging out of his cloak, hanging it over a limb and ignoring the wind that cut through his thin clothes. “You have the heart, but you
lack the form and discipline.”
Roman leaned against a tree and cocked his head. “What have you
learned from watching the battle-lords everyday for the last month?” He
hadn’t missed the way that Aron studied them, and in all probability, he
had probably gotten more out of it than most suspected.
“Don’t get hit.” Aron voice was dry, and Roman laughed despite the
look Aron threw at him.
“That would be a good idea.” Roman pushed away from the tree and
drew a large circle in the snow around them both before facing Aron
again. “Reflexes and balance are key, and it’s something you need to practice all the time.” He smiled at Aron. “Charge me.”
Aron frowned. Roman had no weapons but didn’t seem worried
about being attacked. “I thought we were going to fight, not brawl.”
“I have no interest in calling attention to us tonight,” Roman replied. “At least not until we have asked permission.” His smile was slow and his stance casual. “Take me down, if you can.”
Aron arched a brow. Confident, was he? Aron smirked and began to circle Roman, keeping his stance loose, looking for an opportunity for an
instant before dodging toward him. Before he could make contact, Aron found himself face-first in the snow.
He flipped over onto his back, glaring up at Roman, who just
smirked. Huffing out a breath, he leapt back to his feet, circling him again, irritation set on edge by the calm, confident way Roman watched him. Aron dodged for him again, at the last second changing directions, but again his face met the snow, and he snarled in frustration.
Irritation growing, Aron brushed the flakes from his tunic and breeches as he rose again to his feet.
Roman smiled, which only served to annoy Aron more. That was probably his point, now that Aron thought about it.
“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” Roman shook his head, holding up a hand to halt the exercise. “Try not to count on your vision so much, Aron. Listen, feel….” His words cut off as Aron spurred forward unexpectedly and tackled him to the ground.
Aron gave him a triumphant grin, and the slave rolled his eyes. There was amusement in Roman’s eyes, and that was almost better than the victory. “Well, that’s one way to do it, I suppose.”
Aron was intimately aware of the lithe body underneath his, a frisson running through him. He met Roman’s eyes and saw that he recognized it as well. The slave pushed him off of him and rolled to the side, getting to his feet, and the lesson began again. Aron didn’t say anything, but as they continued, a smug corner of his mind kept replaying the look of the other man beneath him with a smile in his eyes. Before long, though, Aron focused solely on the lessons. Roman was quick, and, more often than not, seemed to know just where Aron was going to come at him from.
After a bit they switched, with Roman coming after him, and Aron was surprised at this new, aggressive side of him. He was hard-pressed to hold Roman off and ended up on his back in the snow or forced out of the circle more than once.
It damaged his pride somewhat that Roman could so easily best him, but it made him determined to do better, and he narrowed his concentration until the bite of the cold and the knowledge of their circumstances fell away and nothing remained but the quick heat of their contest.
Aron absorbed the barked orders from Roman, his body adjusting to the new style of combat until at long last he was staring down at Roman firmly caught underneath him.
“Never let it be said that you aren’t a quick learner,” Roman said, smiling up at him.
Aron smirked and opened his mouth to say something when Wulfgar’s bellow cut through on the wind. “Boy. Roman. Get your scrawny arses down here.”
They both tensed, the easy camaraderie falling away. Roman sat up, wiggling out of Aron’s hold, and brushed the snow off. “We’d better do as he says.” Aron scowled but nodded, retrieving his own cloak and following Roman down, his eyes intent on the slave’s back, his mind already working on when they could get away again.

T
HROUGHOUT the evening meal, Aron couldn’t keep his eyes off Roman. He was sure others noticed, but it seemed beyond his control. He kept thinking about earlier, sparring with him in the snow, how he’d felt pinned beneath him… not to mention the flood of memories from nights past: touching him, Roman touching in return, tasting him, being tasted in return.

He was eternally grateful he was no longer forced to eat meals naked, as his cock was brutally hard the entire meal. He’d never been more thankful for long tunics in his life.

At one point Roman met his eyes, and the look exchanged would have heated the entire hall. Roman’s eyes went slightly wide and uncertain and darted away. It was a game of cat and mouse that had Aron’s blood pumping in his veins.

Halfway through the meal, Wulfgar startled Aron from his visual devouring of Roman.
“Both of you get off to the room,” Wulfgar growled under his breath. “I wish to see you in nothing but your collars and leashes when I arrive.”
Aron rose from the bench, following Roman with his head down in a show of meekness when in truth he was concentrating on the slave’s form in front of him, admiring the curve of Roman’s buttocks in the snug trews. He hoped this was going to be one of those nights where Wulfgar wanted to linger in bed with the two of them.
“You’re going to get us into trouble,” Roman hissed as soon as the door shut behind them. He shot Aron a furious look, but Aron didn’t let it bother him, grinning unrepentantly as he and Roman stripped, his cock rising hard up against his stomach, throbbing as he saw Roman look toward it, and the slave’s tongue flickered over his lips. That seemingly unconscious move was more erotic than any practiced bit of seduction could have been.
Aron grabbed the leashes and made his way toward Roman, who stood his ground, though Aron could tell that he wanted to scurry back. What had happened to that confident, mocking man who had tossed him face-first into the snow countless times earlier? He snapped the leash onto Roman’s collar, making sure not to touch him, before attaching the other one to his own. He was grateful that Wulfgar chose not to use them often.
They jumped apart as the door banged open and Wulfgar stood in the frame, eyeing them both before moving in and locking the door behind them. The thane didn’t say a word as he sat himself on the edge of the bed, and a flicker of apprehension rippled down Aron’s spine.
“Come ’ere, boy,” the thane said with a growl. Aron hesitated for an instant before straightening his spine and approaching.
Aron met Wulfgar’s eyes, trying to read his mood as the thane gathered the end of the leash, wrapping it around his fist and applying pressure to Aron’s shoulder until he was kneeling. The thane fisted his hand in Aron’s hair and wrenched his head back until his throat was arched and corded. Aron caught his breath, apprehension hitting him again, harder, as Wulfgar studied him.
“You’re finally beginning to understand, though you’re the most stubborn mite I’ve ever met. You pleased me this week, boy.” A slow smirk crossed Wulfgar’s face. “Would you like a reward?”
Aron’s eyes widened and then narrowed. He was not some bloody pet to be rewarded and punished when he did good or bad, but the promise in Wulfgar’s gaze tempted him beyond reason. He wet his lips, hoping that the thane was indicating what he thought he was. “Aye, my lord.”
“My lord…” Roman began, and Aron would have glanced his way were it not for Wulfgar’s hand tight in his hair.
“It’s not the same, Roman,” Wulfgar interrupted, giving the slave a hard look. “Cease.” He looked back down at Aron for a long moment, then released him, leaning back on his hands. “He’s yours for this evening, boy, but I expect to be well entertained in return.”
At first, Aron said nothing, simply stared up at him. Then, gradually, realization set in, and he felt faint at the knowledge, the power, and the desire that rushed headlong through him. He turned his head slowly, and his gaze locked on Roman, who had a look of utter betrayal on his face as well as fear. Aron didn’t like that, but as much as he wanted Roman’s desire to be willing, he wasn’t going to turn down the offer he’d been handed.
He could make Roman want him and enjoy him. The gods knew he wanted the slave with a fire that almost frightened him.
Aron rose to his feet and turned, approaching the other man, whose eyes were wide and uncertain. He let a small smile curve his lips, hoping to ease Roman’s obvious nervousness, but the slave averted his eyes, staring at the floor. Aron determined then and there that he was going to make this experience a good one for Roman, remembering how Roman had made it clear that the thane’s sharing of him with Osric had been anything but pleasant. This wouldn’t be that way, Aron vowed it to himself.
Aron heard the slave’s breath catch as he stopped in front of him, reaching one hand to close on Roman’s leash. Aron hated the leash, on himself and on Roman, and he refused to have it between them tonight. The leash dropped to the floor as he unclipped it, and he saw the slight tremor shake Roman. If he thought he could get away with it, the collar would be on the floor as well.
Aron stood there, just looking at Roman, before tapping a finger under his chin, tilting his face up and meeting his eyes. Aron didn’t try to hide his own desire and was sure he saw, behind the uncertainty and nerves, a flicker of the same in Roman’s dark eyes.
He leaned in slowly, pausing a hair’s breadth from Roman’s lips, their eyes still locked. The anticipation was heavy, almost overwhelming, and it snapped as he leaned in that last fraction of an inch and claimed the slave’s lips in a torrid kiss that dragged a whimper from Roman and a groan from himself.
Aron felt Roman’s stiff resistance at first, but then he whimpered again and trembled lightly as his mouth softened underneath Aron’s, and Aron tasted Roman’s submission to him. Blazing triumph seared through his veins, and he raked his hand through Roman’s dark hair, fisting it, while he caught his arm around Roman’s waist and hauled the trembling slave closer to him. He felt Roman’s hands come up to grip his biceps as the slave molded himself to him.
Aron slid his hand from Roman’s hair long enough to unclip his own leash to join the other on the floor before his fingers again buried deep in the silky waves that tumbled down the slave’s back. Roman whimpered again and clung to him, and Aron reveled in the immediate response.
Aron groaned at the sweet taste of his lips, but even sweeter was Roman’s surrender, the submission that Aron had fantasized about for longer than he cared to admit. His arm tightened around the slave’s waist, and he lifted Roman off his feet to take the few steps to the bed, pressing him back onto it and crawling up over him. In some distant part of his mind he registered Wulfgar’s presence, but he dismissed him from his mind in favor of giving his full focus to the dark, beautiful creature beneath him.
Aron couldn’t keep his hands off of him, roaming, stroking, and mapping out every perfect contour of Roman’s lithe, lean body. His. The thought startled him, and he broke the kiss, staring down into dazed, almost black, eyes.
No… he wasn’t. Roman belonged to Wulfgar. But even as his mind reminded him of that fact, another part of him hissed silently:
Mine
. The force of his sudden surge of possessiveness was almost frightening, and for an instant, he was struck with the urge to shove away from him, toss him at Wulfgar’s feet, and never touch him again.
He couldn’t, though. The desire to claim Roman, to mark him as his own, even if only for this night, was too strong. He brought a hand up to Roman’s cheek, tracing the elegant bones, the soft skin, seeing the confusion in his hazy eyes, shaking himself out of his own reverie. He wasn’t going to think about it, he was just going to feel.
And what he felt surpassed any pleasure he’d ever known. Seeking more of that, he dipped his head, mouth latching to Roman’s slender, graceful throat even as he slid one hand between their tightly pressed bodies and between the slave’s thighs to close around his cock, glorying in the ragged moan the touch earned him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against Roman’s arched neck, breathing in the sweet scent of his skin, his silky hair. Why was one man so beautiful? Aron had never known anyone like Roman. He was intoxicating and mesmerizing even when doing nothing more than reading one of his scrolls. Maddening, that was what he was. Absolutely maddening, and for once Aron was going to succumb to the madness and revel in it without hesitation.
Aron groaned as Roman’s hands feathered over his shoulders and traced down the curve of his spine, those elegant fingers stopping, brushing the top of his buttocks before sliding back up his sides. Aron lifted his head, looking down at Roman, whose eyes were closed, his lashes a dark crescent, his face a mask of pleasure, his lips parted and swollen from the bout of kissing earlier. Aron couldn’t resist another kiss to those lush lips before breaking it.
He sat up, straddling Roman’s thighs, his hands possessive as they dragged down over the slave’s chest, watching in fascination as Roman’s body arched upwards into his hands. Every move that Aron made, Roman reacted to. It was powerful to experience and made him want to touch the other man everywhere, in every way, just to see how he would react. Aron plucked Roman’s nipples, his eyes intent on Roman’s face as the slave’s mouth formed an O.
His thumbs circled the tight peaks, and he watched in rapt pleasure as they tightened even further, and Roman whimpered, his slim torso twisting as he arched into Aron’s touch.
Noticing that Roman’s hands had fallen to his sides, Aron reached to catch them, bringing both to his own chest, his voice low and rough with desire. “Touch me….”
Aron couldn’t look away from Roman’s face as he obeyed, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks, his sensual upper lip drawn into his mouth as he tended to do when he was concentrating. That made Aron smile, to think that Roman was concentrating so hard on the way Aron felt to him.
His head fell back with a groan as Roman’s fingertips trailed down his stomach to slide over his hips, and when he opened his eyes, he caught a glimpse of midnight dark watching him before they closed again. Ah no, Aron wanted to look at him, wanted Roman to do the same, and began to say so when the slave’s hand slid between them to brush Aron’s balls and all thought escaped his mind in a rush.
He bent over Roman, eyes following the path of the slave’s tongue as it wet his lips, and dipped his head to replace that soft, pink tongue with his own, kissing Roman deep and sure, tasting the whimpered moans other man gave him.
Gods, Roman tasted sweet, even sweeter than he remembered. Aron’s tongue delved into his mouth, demanding more surrender, and Roman gave it, melting beneath him. Aron broke the kiss, nipping along the elegant jaw, the faint stubble rough on his lips as his mouth descended toward Roman’s ear, tracing the shell with his tongue and feeling the slave tremble in response. He shifted slightly, one knee urging Roman’s legs apart, and settled between them. His teeth grazed the slave’s lobe, breath fanning his skin. “Ro… darkling.” His voice was pitched low, so only the two of them could hear. He didn’t know where the nickname came from, only that he couldn’t bring himself to call the other man by Wulfgar’s pet name.
“Don’t,” Roman replied in a strangled whisper, his body stiffening and dark eyes flying open to clash with Aron’s. For a brief moment he could see the tangle of raw emotion, vulnerability in that dark gaze before Roman closed his eyes and turned his face away, arching his body harder in demand.
Aron felt a sharp stab of anger as Roman’s eyes fell closed again, wondering if it was Wulfgar the slave was imagining touching him. And then Roman was undulating against him, and Aron’s body ceased to care one way or another, responding to that silent demand and giving Roman what he was asking for.
His mouth slid down the slave’s throat, nipping along the tendon there, his own legs shifting a bit further apart when of one of Roman’s hands slipped between them and those long, elegant fingers cupped his balls, rolling them in his palm and sending a shock of pleasure through him.
A shifting beneath him drew Aron’s attention, and he pushed up onto one hand, his eyes widening as he glanced down and watched as Roman’s slender fingers slid from Aron’s balls to his own body. Roman spread his legs wider, and his slim body jolted with a moan as Roman slid two of his own fingers inside himself. Aron could only stare, stunned and mouth dry.
It felt as though bands were tightening around his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t ever imagined watching Roman please himself. He took the hand that had been clenched in the furs and brought it to the slave’s cock, unable to tear his eyes away as Roman took the silent order and began stroking himself in time with his fingers thrusting deep into him. Vaguely, Aron heard a rough groan from a few feet away, but he chose to ignore it.
It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, and Aron sat back on his heels, drinking in the sight of Roman, watching long fingers disappearing into his body, the slave stroking his own cock, the expressions that flashed across his flushed face. Finally, Aron managed to break out of the trance he was in and brought his hands to Roman’s slender, tight thighs, stroking up and down the sensitive inner flesh, fingers brushing higher up over his balls, feeling how full and tight they were, the scent of his arousal and the sweet aroma that seemed synonymous with Roman inundating his senses.
Aron reached one hand for the bottle of oil, pouring some into his palm and bringing his hand to his cock, stroking himself as he continued to watch. He noted how Roman’s tremors increased and his whimpers grew more desperate, finally reaching out and catching the slave’s hand to pull his fingers from him. Aron shifted over him and settled back between his widespread thighs.
Staring down at his face, Aron had the uncontrollable urge to have those dark eyes on him as he took Roman, but the other man didn’t open them, even as he arched up and lifted his hips in invitation. Pushing the ridiculous desire aside in favor of a desire he understood, Aron shifted, his cock tapping against the slave’s entrance, gasping when Roman lifted his hips hard and sank Aron’s cock several inches into him with a cry.
Aron growled, his hands coming down to Roman’s hips and grasping them hard as he slammed the rest of the way into him. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The ring of muscle was so tight around the base of his cock, the rest of his shaft enveloped snugly in an inferno. Aron groaned, and a shudder raced down his spine. He was unable to move for a moment, until Roman shifted against him restlessly.
Aron withdrew slowly, moaning at the loss of that welcoming heat before driving back into him. It was as if he no longer had conscious control of his body as his hips pistoned of their own volition. He leaned closer to Roman, pressing his forehead against the slave’s, silently willing his eyes to open and meet his, feeling Roman’s breath on his lips.
As if he heard the unspoken demand, Roman whimpered. Aron continued to move his hips, his eyes never leaving Roman’s face, waiting for him to obey. When he did, Aron was struck dumb by the tangle of emotions he saw in their dark depths, his heart pounding in his chest as Roman cried out and shut his eyes tightly again, arching against him.