Bee Among the Clover (116 page)

More. Less. For Aron to stop. For Aron to go on. Roman didn’t know, only knew he was terrified and at the same time reaching for it like a starving man for a crust of bread. He craved what Aron was doing, longed for it as much as he wanted it to stop.
“Aron,” Roman whispered, his tone entreating as the kiss broke. The slave’s eyes flew open as Aron sat up, and he followed without thought, reaching out for him.
“I’m not going anywhere, darkling,” Aron replied, tugging his tunic over his head, his eyes warm as they met the slave’s again. “I’m not leaving you.” He pulled Roman into his arms, holding him tight.
Roman closed his eyes, a flash of bitterness stabbing. No, Aron wasn’t leaving him today. He would continue to use him until the day he gained his freedom, and then Aron would walk away without looking back. Roman would be utterly alone again.
The slave’s eyes stung. Blindly his mouth searched, latching onto Aron’s neck, his hands turning demanding on Aron’s body. He was desperate for something he understood.
“Fuck me,” Roman said, meeting Aron’s eyes and shuddering at the way they darkened with lust. This, Roman could control.
Aron growled low and dipped his head, capturing Roman’s lips in a kiss that blazed through him, pushing back the confusing, tormenting thoughts. His heartbeat picked up in response, and Roman gasped as Aron flipped him onto his stomach. Aron’s hard body was over him, his lips devouring Roman’s neck, sending continuous shivers down his spine as Aron’s hands made short work of his leggings and shoes.
Sweet Jesu, Aron better have the presence of mind not to leave any marks, or they would both pay for this tryst. Wulfgar was too perceptive not to notice. Even that frantic thought didn’t stop Roman from arching back against Aron and shimmying up onto his knees. He spread his thighs and circled impatient hips back in offering, listening to the sound of Aron working to divest himself of his trews. He cried out as Aron’s cock, naked and hard, slid across one cheek of his buttocks.
This he knew. This he understood. Roman’s eyes closed as Aron brought his hands to the globes of his buttocks, spreading them wider. He felt his entrance contract and relax, his body on edge waiting for further stimulation.
“Please,” Roman insisted, whimpering and pressing back against him.
Aron groaned, snaking his arm around Roman’s waist, sitting back on his haunches and drawing the slave with him. Roman’s heart leapt as he sank back on Aron’s cock, reveling in the pain-tinged pleasure as it stretched him. His face twisted as he drew his upper lip into his mouth and writhed in Aron’s arms until his cock was fully seated inside of him, claiming him.
“Sweet darkling,” Aron whispered, his voice husky against the side of Roman’s neck. “You feel so good to me.”
Roman replied by clenching around him, his hips restless as they moved against Aron’s, demanding more. Aron’s hand stroked his abdomen, and his fingertips brushed the head of Roman’s cock. Aron groaned as Roman clenched again, and the slave whimpered another wordless plea. Aron was just holding him, nuzzling against the side of his neck, and all those needy, vulnerable emotions threatened to come back with his embrace. Threatened to make Roman want something he could never have. He desired Aron’s body, but not the rest. It was too much.
Then, to Roman’s relief, he was lowered back to his hands and knees, one hand firm on his hip as Aron drew halfway out of him and drove deeply back inside. Roman cried out, the sound ragged, hunger racing through his veins. Aron set the pace, hard, deep, and fast, fucking him exactly as Roman had asked him. He gave himself over to the pleasure, whimpering and writhing for Aron, knowing the other man would enjoy the reactions.
“Darkling… yes… so beautiful, my darkling….”
Aron stroked Roman’s bare hip with his fingers as they moved together. The loving caress was at such odds with their primal mating that the dichotomy broke Roman’s sanity, stole his breath, and made him weak. Without artifice, his own passion rose to meet Aron’s, desperate for more.
He fisted his hands in the soft furs, wishing they were on Aron instead, holding onto him and driving Aron as wild as he was. Aron’s hands caressed him and kept him from being able to find that niche in his mind he’d hidden in the last four years. It wasn’t just the gentle way he was being touched, it was Aron himself. Something about him made him different from everyone else, and he laid a claim on Roman that couldn’t be denied. As hard as Aron was fucking him, it was different. He knew it in his soul. Aron’s darkling. Wulfgar’s Roman. He was hung up somewhere in between. Was there anything left of the person he used to be?
His breath coming in harsh pants, he worked himself back to meet Aron’s thrusts, imagining the expression in blue eyes and crying out for more. Aron wanted all of him, wanted his surrender. He’d give him the surrender and then maybe Aron would be satisfied without demanding Roman’s heart as well. It would be all too easy to hand it over.
Aron moaned, burying his face against the crook of Roman’s neck, his breath against Roman’s skin sending shivers through him. He slid one hand from Roman’s hip, curling it around the slave’s cock, and Roman cried out in pleasure.
He whimpered, his hips rocking hard between Aron’s thrusts and his stroking hand, fingers curled into tight fists. He gasped and sank his shoulders down, resting his cheek on his hands, trembling as the new angle drove Aron’s cock straight against the right spot and the fire inside him rose to a blaze.
Even as Aron claimed his body so thoroughly, Roman promised himself he would not give him his mind, his heart, or his spirit. Those were his, and he guarded them well.
Aron’s free hand ran down the length of Roman’s arched spine, and the slave knew what a vision he must make, with his legs spread wide, buttocks lifted up into the air, undulating and writhing for him, laid out like a sacrifice. Part of him wanted to see Aron’s expression, but he didn’t look over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was more scared of seeing possession in those penetrating blue eyes or something more tender.
Aron leaned down to drag his tongue along the small of Roman’s back, groaning low. Roman gasped at the pure lick of lightning that snaked through him at the contact. Aron’s mouth continued to press kisses against his spine, tongue flickering over his skin. Every rough swipe echoed throughout the length of his body. “More,” he begged despite himself. “Aron… please… Jesu….”
Aron might have demanded much from him, but he gave unparalleled pleasure in return, more so than anyone else before him. They were close enough in height that their bodies fit together perfectly, and Roman reacted to everything Aron did or said on pure instinct, as if his responses to this man were born into him. There was no forced distance between them, not like there was with the thane.
Roman clenched again and reveled in the sound of Aron’s low growl. Aron curled his hand around Roman’s shoulder, snapping his hips harder, and he cried out in return, almost sobbing from the sharp, coursing pleasure. “Anything for you,” Aron whispered.
Those husky words sliced through Roman like a hot blade. No, not anything. If only it were true. Aron was just like the others, gave him only what suited him, only what Aron wanted him to have. Roman made himself push away the disturbing thoughts in favor of the desire he understood.
Aron growled, the sound low and almost constant as he worked his hips. The need rose to an almost wildfire burn inside them both. He stroked Roman tighter and faster, and he knew Aron’s climax was impending. His own body was raging, teetering on the edge and entirely in Aron’s control.
Aron lowered himself over Roman, and the slave moaned his name. He hadn’t realized how much he’d craved having Aron’s body pressed against his, the heat of his skin warming him through to his core. Aron nipped his ear, panting harshly as he buried himself over and over. “Darkling. With me, my darkling, come for me, please.” Aron shuddered hard, stiffening with a hoarse shout as he exploded.
Pleasure screamed through Roman at the desperate demand. His body responded automatically, and he trembled and sobbed as he exploded into flames. The sensation of Aron flooding him, marking him, was incredible. The way Aron continued to stroke his skin with gentle brushes of his thumb sent raw shivers through him. Roman sagged into the furs with a ragged whimper, gasping for air.
He moaned as Aron eased out of him, his body still shaking from the aftershocks. The other man affected him like no one else, and he didn’t know if he wanted to cry, scream, or draw Aron to him again and not let go.
The enormity of what they had done struck him. He belonged to Wulfgar, and while he had to obey any thrall or free man who gave him an order, he hadn’t even tried to avoid Aron’s embrace. He’d done everything he could to encourage it.
Aron had managed, in such a short time, to do what no other had since his capture. He had torn away his wall and made Roman want to share things he’d kept to himself, desires and thoughts that had nothing to do with his body. The emotions Aron raised in Roman made him more vulnerable than he could ever remember being.
It was similar to the story of Pandora’s Box; once released, the feelings would not be locked away again, no matter how hard he tried. Maybe they never would. That frightened Roman as much, if not more, than the thought of the thane finding out he and Aron had betrayed him. No matter how he lied to himself now, it would not change the truth. Aron had touched places inside of him that, until now, had been his alone.
Aron lounged back on the furs, watching Roman, who was lying on his stomach, his eyes closed and his face expressionless. For some reason it bothered him, and he brought his hand to Roman’s face, brushing his fingers over his cheek, wondering; was it just his imagination, or did Roman lean into his touch? Aron willed Roman to open his eyes, but when he did, Aron found himself unable to read Roman’s enigmatic gaze. Whatever the slave was feeling was safely stored away in a place only Roman could access.
Aron felt a sliver of doubt slice through him when Roman sat up, not looking at him as he reached for his tunic and drew it on. Aron’s brows furrowed, reaching for him, but Roman seemed either to not notice or ignore the gesture as he shifted to find his breeches amidst the tumbled furs and began to draw them on as well.
Worry nagged him as Aron sat up, too, catching both of Roman’s hands to stop him and frowning at the slave, who still would not meet his eyes. “Darkling, what is it?” For something was wrong, a blind man could have seen that.
When Roman lifted his shuttered eyes and shook his head, his smile seemed forced. “Nothing, Aron. I should get back. We have no time for lessons today anyway, and Wulfgar might come looking for me.”
Aron frowned again but said nothing as Roman pulled free and finished dressing, rising to his feet and brushing off his clothes even though they weren’t dirty. His voice was hesitant when he spoke. “Darkling….”
Roman gave a sharp shake of his head, his smile brittle and unnatural. “I have to go, Aron, please.”
Aron nodded, unsure of himself. What had gone wrong? He didn’t understand, but he’d promised Roman anything, and he wasn’t about to go back on Roman’s first request, as much as he wanted to demand Roman to stay and talk to him. Silently, he watched the slave swing his cloak around his shoulders and stride out of the cave without a backward glance. Maybe he’d pushed him too fast, but Roman hadn’t protested. He’d seemed to want this as much as Aron did. He wasn’t crazy. He knew there was heat between them. There was no way Roman could deny that.
Roman was afraid of something, and Aron hoped it wasn’t him. He didn’t think it was about them being caught, despite what the slave said, and he was certain Roman didn’t fear he would abuse him as Osric had. Aron decided Roman was afraid of what Aron made him feel, or, more to the point, that Aron did when Wulfgar could not. He did not regret it; he wanted Roman to experience every sensation, every emotion, everything he didn’t when he was with the thane. Aron wanted his darkling to share it with him, because gods knew he felt it too. He wanted to carve himself into Roman’s mind and heart until he was consumed with only thoughts of him. It was only fair. Roman occupied every place inside of him. But right now it was clear to him where Roman’s heart lay, and it wasn’t with him.
His heart heavy, Aron reached out and picked up the bag Roman had left behind. It was packed with food and drinks filched from the storeroom. There were even some winter-dried berries carefully wrapped up on top, because Roman knew how much he loved them. The slave confused him beyond reason. He said one thing and did another, and Aron felt at times that he didn’t understand Roman at all, though he wanted to. Sighing, Aron sat back, tugging a fur around him to ward off the chill, staring moodily into the fire and stabbing at it with a stick.