Blurb:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Makara frowned,
puzzled by the bizarre show of tenderness he had not expected. Afron had never
claimed to have missed him or longed for him. He followed Afron down the hall
to the twisting staircase that led to the fourth floor and his chamber. He
glanced sidelong at Afron as he slid the key into the lock and turned it,
didn't miss Afron's sharp intake of air when the tumbler clunked. Makara pushed
the door open and gestured Afron inside.
Pulling his
shirt off as he walked, Afron went immediately to the large bed in the center
of the room, but paused. He tossed his shirt onto the floor and ran a hand over
the white satin sheets. "These are new."
"I got them
last month on opening day of the Summer Market. Do you like them?" Makara
asked. He crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to where Afron stood.
The question
earned him another grunt, and Afron shrugged as he reached for his waistband to
begin unbuckling his belt. "I have no need for finery."
Of course not.
Makara plucked at the sheets, rolled the soft, slippery fabric back and forth
between his thumb and forefinger. "What do you have need for?"
Afron chuckled.
"My cock in your ass."
Makara rolled
his eyes and pushed Afron's hands away to attend to the belt himself. He
glanced up at Afron. "I trust your trip went well?"
"It did
not." Afron stepped back and impatiently yanked his breeches down.
"Oh?"
Makara frowned. He quickly shimmied out of his breeches, kicked them to the end
of the bed, and slid the remnants of his shirt over his head. Emerging from his
clothing, he found Afron standing stock-still at the side of the bed, staring
at him. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
Afron shook his head, and whatever he had felt seemed to dissipate with the
gesture. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling in front of Makara. Afron wrapped a
meaty fist around his own cock and started stroking.
Makara bit back
a chuckle. Afron had never been one for foreplay -- the barbarian's mind just
didn't work that way. To Afron, things were best dealt with efficiently, even
matters of the heart. But sex with Makara wasn't a matter of the heart for
Afron, was it? Whore. That's what
Afron always called him, and although the moniker was appropriate -- Makara
couldn't very well deny his profession -- there were occasions when he hated
it. Like this one. Like the last time. And the time before that. At least Afron
had noticed the new sheets. Makara laid back and reached to the bedside table,
plucked up the bottle of oil.
"How do you
want--" The words had just left his lips before Afron arched and cried
out, coating Makara's belly with his spend. At a loss, Makara simply lay there,
blinking at the barbarian in confusion. What in the name of the Gods had just
happened?
"I told you
I could not wait," Afron growled. He let go of his cock and wiped his hand
on his chest as he stood. He paced around the room like a caged animal. "I
nearly died."
"Just
now?" Makara arched an eyebrow as he dipped his fingers into the sticky
mess on his belly and swirled it around.
Afron shot him a
look that very clearly indicated he was an idiot. The barbarian moved to the
window, pulled back the curtains, letting in a dazzling burst of light, and
looked down at the city below. "During the journey to Sessill."
"Oh..."
Cold dread crept into Makara's heart and he swallowed hard. Do not become attached to your clients,
he had been told time and time again. He should have listened. He licked his
lips, tried to work up some spit to soothe his suddenly dry throat. "What
happened?"
Afron glanced
back over his shoulder. "Ogres happened."
Ogres. Makara
shuddered. He fought down the urge to run across the room and throw his arms
around Afron; instead, he settled for silently praising the gods for Afron's
safe return to him.
"They
attacked our caravan. Killed my driver before any of us could react. Jumped
down from the trees and cut his guts out." He made a slashing motion with
his right hand. "Just like that."
To be continued...
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