Oh, God. By the saints, by the Virgin, by the most sacred blood.
He was suddenly aware that he was standing on a knife’s edge.
Over the weeks they’d been together, without William even realizing it, the firmament of his resolve and control and self-denial had been eaten away far below the surface. And now he could feel how thin the thread was that held him in check— perilously, horrifyingly, inconsequentially thin.
He stood abruptly and headed for the woods.
“
William
.” Christian’s voice rang out sharply, stopping him in his tracks.
William paused, his back to the river. He could not look.
“They call you the
lion
. I wouldn’t have expected you to be such a dog-hearted coward.”
Christian’s voice held disdain. And those words, those
outrageous
,
inflammatory
words, made William tremble, literally shake in his boots.
No man spoke to him like that.
William was filled with an imperative urge to stride into that river and grab Christian, push him, tackle him, hold him down, make him take it back, those words, to make him…
beg
. To take him, to crush him, to kiss him, to
fuck
him.
William’s trembling fingers scrambled at the laces of his gambeson and, with a muttered curse, he ripped it over his head and
threw
it. He yanked off first one boot, then the other, hurling them at the trees and causing birds to take flight in alarm. Then his linen shirt was pulled over his head and away, suffering a nasty tear in his fit of pique. He only barely refrained from spitting on it for good measure.
He almost left on his hose, striding towards the river still in them. But the wool was a bastard to dry, and he needed something more to assuage his wrath before he got his hands on anything that could actually
bruise.
So he stopped and yanked them down. He was so hard that his cock slapped against his belly loudly as it pulled free of his hose. In his rage, he felt not the slightest prickle of shame.
Christian was wide-eyed as William stormed into the water. He put his hands up in front of him, as if to ward William off, but his face told a different story. He gazed up and down William’s approaching form with unmistakable hunger, lingering on his chest, then his cock. And if he’d intended to run, like any sane man would have done, it was too late, because suddenly William was there.
He grabbed Christian’s upper arms in his two strong hands and pulled Christian up, holding him so that their faces were of a level and his feet were off the riverbed. William didn’t bring Christian close, he just held him, firmly. And he glared, growling low in his throat.
Christian licked his lips, looking slightly nervous. But his eyes were heated and they slipped from William’s eyes to linger on his lips and then down to the muscles of his chest. When Christian met William’s eyes again, it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to struggle, wasn’t going to resist, or even defend himself with that wicked tongue. He tilted his head back slightly, his eyes going half-lidded, as if offering his throat.
God’s teeth! The man was more beautiful than anything in the heavens or the earth. And William’s anger merged with a strangling desire.
“Do you. Want me?” William asked through gritted teeth, because he wanted to take, he
had
to. But he wouldn’t take what was not freely offered.
Christian answered fiercely. “Since the first time I saw you on the jousting field and every minute since.”
William pulled Christian in, wrapped him in strong arms, and kissed him.
Oh.
Oh, the feeling of Christian in his arms. William pressed him tight, crushing that beautiful body against his own as firmly as he could without causing harm. Christian’s flesh was warm above, from the heat of the sun, and cool below from the river. And the lean strength of it, the flat chest against his own, the hard cock pressed next to his, felt so right and perfect that it filled William with shivers of delight and brought a stinging heat to the back of his eyes.
Oh. William was so lost.
He plundered Christian’s mouth, tasting him deeply. His mouth was warm like a summer day and earthly like the woods and… innocent. Christian was all eagerness, almost frantic with desire. His arms wrapped around William’s shoulders in a painful clutch, and he crushed his lips to William’s as demandingly as a starving baby bird. But for all that, his mouth was untutored, his moves hesitant.
How was it possible that no one had ever kissed this man?
The thought brought a wave of tenderness, and William softened his hold. His palms pressed flat on Christian’s back and he relaxed his grip. But Christian would have none of it. He pulled himself in tighter and began to rut against William’s stomach in desperation. His cock was still a bit slippery from the water as it rubbed against William’s dry skin. William groaned, wanting to give him what he needed, what they both needed. He turned and started for the riverbank, following a deep instinct to lay Christian down on the ground and take him.
But then he stopped— Christian was not a woman. William did not know what to do. He knew it was possible to take a man’s arse but he wasn’t sure how the thing was done, not without brutality and pain. So he swallowed down his pressing need and carried Christian deeper into the water.
****
Christian couldn’t believe he’d challenged William like that— called him a dog-hearted coward. It was a dangerous gambit. But he’d just… he couldn’t stand it anymore, all the dancing and denial. No man was meant to suffer so much for the want of love. It wasn’t fair.
Ever since the night they’d talked at the fire, Christian had been sure. Well, almost sure. What he’d seen in William’s eyes that night convinced him that William wanted him, that he’d been as aroused as Christian was himself. So when he’d caught William watching him on the riverbank, desire written all over his face, Christian had
needed
, acutely, and he was determined not to accept another diversion. So he’d pushed.
And he’d won. It was William’s colors that lay now, muddied, on the tournament field. But in victory, Christian only felt the desire to surrender completely, to let William take him, do whatever he willed. Dear Holy Mother,
anything
, as long as this heady feeling didn’t end.
Christian pressed himself hard against that broad frame. William was strong and sturdy and immovable. Nothing in Christian’s entire life had prepared him for how this felt— so safe, so wondrous, so arousing. William’s skin was smooth silk over hard muscle. His lips were as soft on Christian’s as he’d imagined they would be. His tongue stroked in Christian’s mouth, and every caress spurred Christian’s need higher and higher. William’s cock was as hard as the river stones had been beneath Christian’s feet. William was that hard
for him
.
Christian rutted helplessly against William’s stomach, along the side of his shaft. The friction on his aching flesh was so pleasurable he couldn’t still his hips or his cries.
William began to carry Christian towards the river bank, but then suddenly they were moving deeper into the water. William pulled his mouth away.
“Put your legs round me,” he said as the water crept up to Christian’s waist.
Christian did. He wrapped his legs around William’s hips and recaptured his mouth, desperate for the taste of him. The cool water lapped at the furrow between Christian’s legs, tickled the undersides of his bollocks in a marvelous fashion. But the new position meant his cock was not as tightly against William’s stomach and he whined in frustration and tilted his hips, trying to get closer.
“William,” Christian begged.
William groaned in answer and half-swam backwards, pulling them in deeper.
“By my sword, what you make me feel,” William growled. He pulled Christian in tight, hands on his arse, and ground them together.
Yes
.
There.
The pleasure of it, the sheer sexual pleasure that came from the friction of Christian’s swollen, sensitized cock rubbing against William’s stomach and iron shaft, was so much more intense than anything Christian had ever felt when he’d touched himself that he was in awe of it. He got lost in the sensation— being in William’s arms, the sweet heat of his lips and tender tongue, the delight of their cocks rutting against each other between their bodies.
That Christian could have a man like this, and not just any man, but
William
, a man more handsome, stronger, and more decent than any he’d ever known, seemed entirely unreal. As if, by all rights, the earth should cleave in two at the audacity of Christian daring to be so happy, daring to get so much.
Then William, with a moan, removed one hand from Christian’s backside and pushed it between them, taking them both in his large hand.
Christian threw back his head at the sensation of those strong, calloused fingers on his shaft, and the press of William’s large cock moving tightly against his own. He couldn’t stop the moans that poured from his throat.
“Christian, look at me,” William ground out.
Christian looked.
“Need to see your eyes. So beautiful,” William panted.
“William.” Christian stared into those stormy blue eyes. The level of intimacy shattered him.
“You’re so beautiful, Christian. So fine. You should know that. You should—”
The words were too tender, too much. They tipped Christian over the edge.
“
Ah!
Oh, God!” He squeezed his eyes shut as orgasm overtook him, streaming hot from his flesh into the cool river tide.
“Look at me!” William cried.
Christian forced his eyes open, still in the throes of his release, and he saw William’s pleasure wash across his face. His cock pulsed against Christian’s. Christian drew his hand down quickly to the head of William’s cock, because he had to feel it, needed proof of William’s desire. The hot semen struck his palm with surprising force even underwater. It was such a vulnerable, erotic thing that William was letting him see, letting him feel, that it touched the core of him. William held Christian’s gaze fiercely until the last of the ecstasy had faded from his eyes.
Christian felt profoundly changed. He knew he could never go back to the person he’d been an hour ago. Something had irrevocably shifted inside him. But as their ardor faded, he suddenly felt unsure. He wanted to bury his face in William’s neck, to feel their heartbeats slowing together in the warm circle of William’s arms. But he feared that, with William’s passion spent, his denial would return and he’d look at Christian like he was perverted and wrong, perhaps want to punish him. Christian tried to pull away.
“No,” William said, pressing him tight.
Christian was stiff for a moment, but when it was clear William was not going to relent, he relaxed in his arms, placing his forehead on William’s shoulder with a sigh.
“I wish you could see yourself as I see you,” William said quietly.
“How do you see me?”
William stroked his back. “Perfect in every way. If I could freeze time and place I would choose this moment and this river, with you.”
Christian’s heart soared at the words, a stab of joy so acute that it hurt. But then he also heard what was not said—
but we cannot freeze time and this cannot last.
Christian pushed the thought away. He placed his hands on William’s waist, relishing the feel of the taut skin under the water
. Say what you like. You are mine and forever will be.
“And you are my perfection,” Christian said, and then quickly, so that William need not reply, “Now let me loose, and I’ll hunt us a fine dinner.”
****
CHAPTER 11
They worked in companionable silence as they made camp and cooked dinner. Christian caught another hare in the forest— the woods were overflowing with them— and William broke a fresh round of bread from Whalley. They shared a pungent red wine William had purchased at The King’s Horse, filling his leather costrel. There was no need for idle conversation.
When Christian would have sat several feet away from him at the fire, William patted a place next to him on the log. As they ate, they bumped knees and elbows, but neither moved to put distance between them.
Now that William had taken the step he’d fought all his life, there was no undoing it, and he would not waste time on regret. He didn’t feel ashamed or confused. He felt… strongly protective. He wanted to shield Christian from any more pain in his life, including the pain Christian obviously expected in the form of William’s cruelty. William would never be cruel, not to Christian, not deliberately. But he didn’t have to be, because the situation was cruel enough. William felt the first knot of a great sorrow, born under his ribs. He knew how brief a reign this thing between them would have. It
had
to be brief, but that made him all the more greedy for every moment of it.
William had heard the troubadours sing of love. His tutor had made him read
The Song of Roland
and much bad romantic poetry. He understood the notion of courtly love, had seen some of his friends pine for their beloved. He’d pretended amusement, teased them mercilessly, but he’d been envious. He’d always hoped that, someday, he would have a wife whom he would love thus, as if she hung the moon and the stars. He’d never met a woman who made him lose his head like that. But he could lose his head over Christian. Perhaps he already had. He recognized that the dewy perfection he saw when he looked at Christian was unrealistic, a sign of a heart struck by Cupid’s arrow. But it was so sweet he didn’t care.