The Only Option (12 page)

He checked the box it had all come in, then searched the saddlebags and at last found it.

I wish I could have come, but matters are keeping me here a little longer.

“Hmph.” Rochus called Anel and had her fetch someone to take the bags to his room and the saddle to the stable.

The next three days passed with agonizing slowness, but produced a small black box and a note that said only:
As much as I enjoy the thoughts these inspire, the actions will be far better.
Rochus narrowed his eyes and almost put the box away without opening it. But Tilo had his hooks in, damn him, and Rochus finally surrendered to curiosity.

A pretty vial made of red glass held bedroom oil that smelled like night jasmine. There was also soft but strong silk cord and a ring most definitely not meant for a finger. Rochus lifted his eyes to the ceiling, surprised only that Tilo hadn't given such a gift sooner. He shut the box and stored it beneath his bed, but unfortunately out of sight was not out of mind and there were plenty of inspired thoughts to help exhaust him enough to sleep.

Three days later, he wasn't sure whether he should be excited or afraid of the latest gift.

The note attached to the gift said only:
Enjoy
. Rochus opened it, then buried his face in one hand, slamming the box shut with the other before Anel showed up and saw the gleaming artificial phallus within. The mortification that wound through him did nothing to dampen the heat, and despite his best efforts to resist, Rochus ended the night doing exactly as the note had bid, finally falling asleep messy, sated, and hopeful he'd soon see his mischievous little dragon.

Three days later, he was ready to scream, especially when the post had come and gone and there was no new gift. Had something happened? Was Tilo all right? Rochus waited and waited, and finally took himself off to his study to do some work after he snapped at Anel twice.

He'd finally started to get somewhere with his accounting when a sharp rap came at the door. “Yes?” he asked.

Anel's mouth was quirked in a little smile. “Someone to see you, magus.”

Rochus's heart began to pound in his chest. “Send them to my reading room. Thank you, Anel.”

“Yes, magus.” She curtsied and slipped away, and Rochus hastened out of his study and up the curving stairs along the edge of the whole tower to his reading room that took up half the fourth floor.

He ran fingers through his hair, then made a face at himself and dropped his hands, going to the window to stare at the rapidly falling dark. Soft footsteps drew his attention, and all the words he'd been planning and mentally reciting over the past weeks fell away.

If he'd thought Tilo beautiful before, it was nothing compared to seeing him healthy and happy—and dressed like a dragon in a costly green velvet jacket decorated with gold and silver and pearls, more jewels at his fingers, wrists, ears, throat, and even his waist. There was also a small emerald stud in his nose. “You've gotten sparkly, kit,” Rochus said, voice softer than he'd meant.

Tilo grinned, pleased and proud. “Bought a lot of it with the money owed me from fines levied by Her Majesty. She likes fining people, doesn't she?”

“It's her second favorite hobby,” Rochus said, then cleared his throat and crossed the room as Tilo did the same. They met in the middle. “What are you doing here? Certainly such a handsome, affluent dragon has better options for courting.”

“Shut up, magus,” Tilo said, then removed Rochus's spectacles, yanked him close and kissed him soundly.

Rochus had thought he'd known just how much he missed Tilo, but it wasn't until he had Tilo pressed up against him, warm and sweet and achingly familiar, that he realized it ran far deeper than he'd ever realized. He held Tilo tightly, crushing them together, and kissed him back like his life depended on it.

Tilo shuddered, moaned, fingers almost painfully tight in Rochus's hair. Every time Rochus tried to pull away, Tilo chased his mouth and resumed the kissing. He stopped only when Rochus got a hand between them, though he promptly started sucking on Rochus's fingers instead.

“You're a brat,” Rochus said. “Why all the gifts? I would have been perfectly happy simply to have a reply to my letters.”

Tilo's cheeks turned pink. “I was too scared to read them at first. Your uncle gave them to me, and I put them on my desk to read when I was feeling braver, but then there was so much to do and I was never in my room except to sleep… They got buried and I was worried about so many other things… By the time I remembered them, it felt like it was too late. I read them anyway and realized…” He drifted off, stared at Rochus's chest, fingers tightly gripping his shirt.

“Realized what?”

“I thought you didn't really much like me except when we were in bed,” Tilo said. “You were so cold after that last time, and went straight back to business, like maybe the fun was over and it was time to move on. So I tried to act the same. I was afraid your letters would just be more business, more indifference… When I realized they weren't like that at all, I was miserable because I'd accidentally thrown away the chance I'd been hoping for all along.” He seemed to droop. “I was sure you definitely hated me by that point, but I wanted to try… did you not like the gifts?”

Rochus brushed a thumb over Tilo's well-kissed lips. “How could I possibly dislike them? And I'm sorry, I never meant to give the impression of indifference. I didn't want to presume or make you feel obligated. You could have the world, Tilo.”

“So I've been told, lately,” Tilo said, rolling his eyes. He shook his head slightly, then looked at Rochus with an eager smile, his unhappiness vanishing like fog burned away by the sun. “Which gift was your favorite?”

“The saddlebags,” Rochus replied, just to see if Tilo would pout, which he did. “Did you really think I was going to name one of your inappropriate gifts?”

“Did you like them?” Tilo asked, eyes going hot, leaning in close, mouth whispering across Rochus's. “I bought them while I was stuck at the royal castle for months. I'd wander into the city and pick out gifts for people back home. I have an entire trunk of presents for you. It was hard to decide which to send for courting. Oh, except the wine and the sapphires. Those were my first—”

Rochus kissed him, in that slow, deep, thorough way that left Tilo shivering against him and too dazed to do anything but stare and ask for more. “Do you really want a boring old necromancer?”

“You're not boring, and if you don't stop saying you're old I'm going to set you on fire.”

“No, you won't, because then you'll never learn whether or not I've enjoyed any of your gifts,” Rochus retorted.

Tilo's eyes turned hot again, voice slightly breathless as he asked, “Did you?”

“Now why would I tell you when it's so much more fun to keep you wondering?”

“That's mean.”

“So is ignoring me for months and then sending me gift after gift but taking your sweet time coming to see me.”

Tilo winced. “I tried to make the gifts worthwhile. They were, weren't they?”

Rochus drew him in and kissed him again, feeling no small amount of smugness at the way it left Tilo clinging and whimpering softly. “What do you think?”

“I think I've really, really missed you,” Tilo replied and tried to kiss him again.

“I think you could do with a proper meal, and technically, you owe me a sixth gift. Rude not to show up with one.”

Tilo's scowl turned into a grin. “I brought it—sort of. The sixth gift is an invitation to come stay with me for a few months in Rothenberg, see it properly and all. I know you have to work and will get called away, and that you prefer your tower, which is beautiful, but I was hoping—” The rest of his words turned into an indistinct jumble as he happily gave up talking in favor of kissing.

Rochus eventually drew back, but only because kissing was no longer enough. “Come along, my dear kit, I think it's time we take this reunion to more private quarters.”

“And you'll come to Rothenberg? It can be weeks instead of months, or just days if you really want—”

“You're quite the talker when you're not half-starved and terrified, aren't you?” Rochus cut in, chuckling when that got him a scowl. “Come on, upstairs.” He took Tilo's hand and led him all the way to the top of the tower, where the entire floor was given over to his bedroom and numerous bookcases filled with all the books he'd bought while he was learning to read and after he'd mastered the skill. There was more to the room, but Rochus ignored all of it in favor of leading Tilo to his enormous bed.

Tilo immediately saw the red glass bottle Rochus had carelessly left in plain sight. “I knew it.” He turned, grabbed Rochus close, and did one of his damned grab-toss maneuvers. “What else did you use?”

“Shut up,” Rochus replied and flipped them over, pinning Tilo to the bed. The image was a thousand times lovelier and hotter in person than it had been in countless imaginings. He drew back enough to strip off their clothes, and that was an even better view. “Lie still.”

“That's just mean.”

“Call it a well-deserved punishment.”

Tilo heaved a sigh but didn't argue. Rochus rewarded him with a soft kiss to those pretty lips before he drew away to make a slow, thorough exploration of Tilo's body with his mouth, starting at the bottom and working his way up, ignoring the hard, leaking cock in favor of leaving wet trails up Tilo's torso and lingering to suck up marks on his beautiful throat.

“Are you going to bite me?” Tilo asked.

Rochus grazed his teeth along Tilo's throat, soaking in the long groan that got him, but didn't bite hard. Tilo might have the strength of a dragon, but his skin was as fragile as any human's and Rochus's teeth were meant for tearing out the throats of his victims.

Tilo whined, high and needy, and Rochus leisurely worked his way back down his body to finally pay attention to his neglected cock, licking along the line of it, fingers caressing, gently squeezing, until Tilo was writhing and swearing and begging.

Withdrawing to slick his fingers, Rochus slipped them back—and moaned to find no preparation was needed. Gleeful triumph shone in Tilo's eyes. Rochus slicked his own cock, then flipped the little brat over, spread him wide, and shoved inside him without warning or care. Tilo growled, thrust back against him, and Rochus fucked him as hard and deep as they'd both been wanting.

When he could feel Tilo trembling, he pulled out and flipped him back over, bent to kiss him hard enough Tilo's lip split. He lapped at the blood, swallowed the shaky moans Tilo fed him, then drew back with an effort and thrust back inside his body, spreading his legs wide and fucking into him with all the strength and energy he had remaining.

Tilo came with a scream, release spilling across their skin, and Rochus gave a last few hard, jerky thrusts before coming himself, Tilo's name on his lips. He collapsed on top of Tilo, took his mouth in a lazy kiss, and then shifted to stretch out alongside him while he slowly calmed down.

“I was worried you wouldn't want to see me,” Tilo said softly several minutes later. “I kept waiting in dread for the gifts to be returned, for an angry note telling me to leave you alone.”

Rochus shifted to lie on his back, tugging Tilo to rest against his side, head on Rochus's shoulder. He kissed Tilo's brow. “When you didn't reply to my letters, I thought you were happily done with me. I still think I'm probably too old for you, and many will be more than happy to point that out, but…” He swallowed, held Tilo a bit closer. “I was happy when the first gift arrived, and I know when to stop trying to get rid of a good thing that insists on being in my life.”

“Good,” Tilo replied and leaned up enough to kiss him hard and quick, leaving Rochus's lips pleasantly throbbing. “Because my backup plan was kidnapping, and I was fairly certain you weren't going to be very amused by that.”

“Well, I doubt it would have been worse than a forced marriage and eyes full of reproach,” Rochus replied and soothed away Tilo's pout with another kiss. “Rest a bit, then we'll see about dinner and I'll start packing.” That earned him a smile and a kiss ardent enough he suspected he wouldn't actually get around to packing for a couple of days.

Megan Derr is a long time writer of LGBTQ romance and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she’s not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all over the internet. For more information on other books by Megan, visit her website:
www.maderr.com
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Less Than Three Press LLC

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