The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (14 page)

“But what if—”

“No what-ifs. You must learn to trust her. She’s growing up, and besides, she is with adults.”

Damir knew Balin was right. He had to shake off the gnawing feeling he had in his stomach that something horrible would happen. This was his chance to enjoy Balin without any restraints. Would he really pass up the opportunity, all because of needless worrying?

Balin finished his beer and set the mug down. “Now come on. Let’s enjoy what time we have together before she returns. It’s not often that I get to hear you scream.”

Damir’s face warmed with a mix of need and embarrassment. Balin grabbed Damir’s hand and hauled him out of his seat. He picked up the package he had carried in with him and swept Damir up the stairs to the room they’d had their things sent to.

Once there, Balin closed the door and the window shutters. He lit the lamp, casting a harsh orange light across the walls of the room, then set the package on the nightstand between the beds. He turned to face Damir.

“Come here.”

Damir crossed the room. His heart pounded with each step. Even after all the nights they’d shared, he still felt a shivering rush of wonder. Balin touched him with a worshipping hand, and Damir felt weak beneath his touch.

Balin steered Damir toward the bed and unraveled the scarf around his neck. Damir unfastened his cloak and let it drop to the floor along with the scarf. His pulse picked up speed, his mind dulled to every concern except how fast he could strip his clothes off. He wanted to taste Balin, feel him. He flicked his tongue over Balin’s lips and sealed their mouths hungrily together. Balin traced his fingers over the serpentine lines that hugged Damir’s body, and then wrapped his hands tightly around Damir’s biceps.

“Sit on the bed,” Damir ordered as he pulled away. His hands shook with his all-consuming desire. Balin obeyed. He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside. His dark skin was like fresh clay beneath the reddish glow of the lanterns. Damir ran his fingers along the solid muscles of Balin’s chest and lowered himself to his knees.

Balin helped slide his pants down until they bunched around his ankles. Damir slid the soft, buttery leather boots off and peeled the pants from Balin’s well-muscled legs. He shifted between Balin’s powerful thighs and inhaled his musky odor.

BALIN WATCHED AS Damir parted his supple mouth and leaned forward. Hotness swaddled him as Damir took the head of his cock into his mouth. Tongue became fire, and Balin nearly lost his mind as he fell victim to Damir’s talents. Damir sank down farther on Balin’s shaft, engulfing the engorged flesh until his cockhead nudged the back of Damir’s throat.

“Cythra’s tits,” Balin groaned as he fisted a hand in Damir’s hair. His eyelids involuntarily fluttered shut. He snapped them open. He didn’t want to miss a single second of Damir going down on him, his sweet mouth spread wide.

Balin’s balls swelled with cum, and his body vibrated with restraint. His release beat against him, a constant thundering wave that threatened to break down his barrier and flood Damir at any second. Balin pulled at Damir’s silken hair. A moan escaped as Damir’s tongue slid up him one final time.

Damir looked up from where he sat, his face flushed and lips glazed with saliva. “What’s wrong?”

“Undress. Now.” Balin growled. His voice had dropped to the deep rumble of sex. Damir rose to his feet and, to Balin’s frustration, slowly peeled off each piece of clothing. Balin’s balls throbbed with the need to unload, and his cock ached with the desire to be buried deep inside Damir’s tight hole. Damir kicked aside his boots and pants and stood before Balin, his body a burning star stranded on Zoria.

Balin rose to his feet and walked over to his bag, sorting through until he found the vial of gralui oil he’d brought along. His cock twitched happily. Every moment with Damir brought him closer to bliss. There were moments he could barely stand the feeling. It was an overwhelming burn that stole his breath and his heartbeat.

Balin grabbed the brown-paper parcel and unwrapped it. He turned around and showed the glass cock to Damir. It was light but solidly made. Damir reached out and picked it up, turning it in his hands with a curious look.

Balin took it from him. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Damir met his gaze with a smoldering gleam in his eyes. He pushed the blankets down on the bed and moved into position. Hunger ate away at Balin, driven hard by a great need to be with Damir. It was more than carnal desire. He felt soul-bound.

Balin climbed onto the bed and crouched behind Damir. Hastily he slicked up the glass cock with the gralui oil. He rubbed the oil down the cleft of Damir’s ass and pressed two digits in. Damir bowed his spine and pressed into Balin’s awaiting palm.

“You feel so good,” Balin whispered. He nearly had to pull his hands away to shield his eyes from Damir’s brightness.

Balin shortly withdrew his hands and pressed the head of the dildo against Damir’s entrance. Damir moaned low and deep as the foreign object pierced his channel.

Balin began to slowly fuck Damir with the glass cock. Balin could see a flush sweep over Damir’s body. He spread his legs wider apart as if he wanted to take more in, and Balin picked up the speed of his thrusts.

His arm muscles bunched from the exertion, and his testicles felt like they were ready to burst. He licked his lips and twisted the glass cock, savoring the sweet sound of Damir howling in pleasure.

“Balin, please,” Damir pleaded.

“What?” Balin asked huskily.

Damir whined and fisted his hands into the bedsheets. His phosphorescent body lit up the bedroom like a beacon. Outside, thunder weakly rumbled. Balin drew away, pulled out the glass cock, and held up a hand to shield his eyes. The light faded. Damir looked over his shoulder, his eyes glazed over and mouth parted.

“I want you inside me,” Damir whispered.

Balin set aside the glass cock and slicked himself with gralui oil. He could barely keep his hands from shaking. Balin pressed a kiss against Damir’s lower back. “There is no greater place in the world than being sheathed inside you.”

Damir rolled onto his back. He stretched his hands out and wrapped his arms tightly around Balin’s neck. Balin pulled Damir’s legs around his waist and lined up his cockhead with Damir’s entrance. He took a moment to steady himself, to calm the erratic beats of his zealous heart.

Damir moaned loudly as Balin slammed in. Balin had never shared the depths of his emotions with Damir. He tried not to think about them for long. Emotions were deadly. They could get a man killed. But when Balin was swaddled by Damir, the writhing man gathered in his arms, he began to realize that his frozen heart had begun to melt.

Balin’s thrusts built into a possessive pace. He pressed Damir into the mattress, claimed him with powerful thrusts. A cry barreled out of Damir, and Balin relished the sound. Damir’s nails bit into Balin’s skin, and moans shuddered through him, growing higher and higher.

“Harder, harder, don’t stop—ahh!” Damir threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut.

Balin pulled out abruptly and flipped Damir over. He grabbed Damir’s hips and dragged him close, burying himself back inside Damir. Damir howled out. Balin ground deep into him, threatening to grind Damir’s prostate into dust. He looked down, watching as his dick slid out and then vanished into Damir.

“Balin!” Damir moaned low.

Balin watched Damir fumble for his own cock, and after a few seconds, walls clamped around him in climax. He followed behind Damir. They were almost like two comets, trying to catch up to each other. As the last of their pleasure waned, Balin pulled his softening dick out and rolled onto his back next to Damir, panting.

Damir turned and pressed into Balin’s side; he rested his head on Balin’s shoulder. The air was sticky, perfumed with a bitter sweetness that dried on their bodies. Damir tangled his legs with Balin’s and pressed a kiss to a sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Never leave,” Damir whispered. He lit the room with a sterling glow. The light remained brilliant.

Balin smoothed his hand over Damir’s racing heart. It was the wild flicker of a candle in the breeze. Leaving had never been an option. From the moment he’d first awakened on the farm, some part of Balin had known he’d come home.

“Never,” Balin whispered. Damir laced their fingers together. Light against dark intertwined in the moonlight.

TIME SLIPPED BETWEEN their fingers as they lost themselves in their skin. They took turns tracing patterns on their chests and stomachs. Damir didn’t even realize he’d drifted off to sleep until he woke with a shiver. He stretched languidly, wincing at the twang in his spine. An ache had settled into his muscles, reminding him that Balin had thoroughly fucked him.

He rolled over and pressed closer to Balin. The other man barely stirred beside him. Groggily, Damir sat up and looked around the room. The candle still flickered on the nightstand, casting the room in an eerie glow. He climbed out of bed and opened the shutters, letting in the fresh air.

Damir could hear a band playing in the distance. Someone shrieked with laughter below the window.

The moon had just begun to creep across the night sky. It had felt like an eternity with Balin earlier. It was a relief to know time hadn’t passed too far. He hunted down his clothes, and after washing himself off, he carefully dressed. A shot of pain raced up his spine when he turned too quickly or shifted the wrong way.

“Where are you going?” Balin asked gruffly.

Damir paused, then smiled fondly at him. “I’m going to get Elina. I’ll be back.”

Balin sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes with a knuckle. “Once Elina is tucked away, why don’t we go out to the festival?”

“That’s a great idea.” Damir dropped a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be quick.”

Balin dragged him onto the bed. Balin deepened the kiss, opening Damir’s pliable mouth with his tongue. Hunger curled in Damir’s stomach. He hadn’t thought it was possible to get hard again, but his cock stiffened against his pants and his anus clenched wantingly.

Balin’s fingers tangled in Damir’s hair, cradling his head. A groan bubbled up Damir’s throat. He turned away with a pant. “If we don’t stop, I’ll miss Elina.”

“Go get her,” Balin said with smirk.

Damir drew in a shuddered breath and hurried downstairs, where he waited outside the inn. He’d only been waiting a few minutes before Sansford arrived with Elina at his side. She beamed up at Damir, her face flushed in the lantern light.

“Thank you.” Damir shook Sansford’s hand. “How’d it go?”

“Great. They both seemed to have enjoyed themselves,” Sansford said and patted Elina’s shoulder.

“Perhaps they can meet up after the festival,” Damir suggested. Elina’s smile broadened, and Damir’s heart swelled. He knew he had to start loosening the reins, and alone time with Balin didn’t hurt either.

“That sounds like a great idea. Why doesn’t she come stay the weekend with us? Becca’s birthday is in a fortnight. I’m sure she’d love to have Elina visit.”

“Really? Can I?” Elina interjected with a lilt of excitement.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll bring her by around sundown,” Damir said. Sansford provided Damir with his address and bid good-bye. Damir steered Elina inside and up to her room. “Now, it’s time for bed.”

Elina hugged Damir tightly around the waist. “Thank you, Dammy.”

Damir pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

He saw her to bed, then returned to his room. Balin was already washed and dressed when he entered.

“How’d it go?” Balin asked.

“Well. I’ll be bringing her to town in two weeks so she can stay the weekend.”

“You think you’re ready for that?” Balin tilted his head to the side, a brow raised.

Damir stepped in front of him and brushed his fingers across Balin’s cheek. “Well, I don’t know about
ready
. But I think it’ll be good for both of us. Besides, I’m sure you can find plenty of ways to keep my mind preoccupied while she’s away.”

Balin flashed Damir a wolfish grin and leaned forward for a kiss. Damir turned away with a coy look. “Ready to go?”

Balin growled but followed Damir. They headed to the celebration, which was still in full swing. Paper lanterns were strung up in the trees and illuminated the streets. They walked to the town square, where couples swung and danced to the music. The air was permeated with the sweetness of beer and honeyed bread. Damir’s mouth salivated at the sight of the food stalls, his stomach giving a lurch. He was suddenly famished—vigirious sex could do that.

Damir turned to Balin and grabbed his hands. Balin opened his mouth, but before he could utter a complaint, Damir dragged him into the crowd of dancers. The rhythm was lively; the strum of guitars and heavy beat of the drums mixed with the low whistle of a bagpipe.

With a laugh, Damir began to dance. No one saw him. No one cared about him—no one but Balin. They twirled and swayed, lost in a cluster of bodies. The stars spiraled above Damir’s head as he turned faster and faster with Balin, hands clasped together. Time blurred, lost in the spinning galaxy. Damir fell against Balin, panting. His stomach grumbled in protest. He grinned up at Balin and called over the music, “Food.”

Balin nodded and tugged him toward a food vendor, where they ordered a parcel of roasted nuts. They migrated away from the band and toward a quieter street, snacking on the sugarcoated chestnuts. Soon the music faded with the laughter, and Damir was left with only the comfort of Balin’s company.

“You’re glowing faintly,” Balin commented as they turned onto an empty street, well away from the festivities. A gentle breeze caressed Damir’s face, cooling the sweat that had built up while they danced.

Damir looked down at his hands, which had a soft radiance to them. “That’s because of you.”

“Truly?” Balin steered Damir toward a darkened street that bisected the one they traveled. It was tucked away from the rest of the world, lined with buildings Damir had never noticed before.

“Yes, truly.” Damir stopped, watching Balin thoughtfully. The man took a few more steps ahead of him and then turned around with a reproachful look. A pillar of moonlight struck Balin as he moved, and Damir could hardly breathe. It was as if Balin was carved by the night, and it was painful to look upon him.