Bee Among the Clover (76 page)

D
ESPITE the enormous changes in one young man’s life, the season
progressed at its normal, plodding pace. A late storm came through the area, knocking the last of the leaves from the trees and setting a permanent
chill into the air. The battle-lords and wlords and warriors continued to spar in the
yard. The women and others bound to the hall hurried to finish the
preparations for winter.
The denizens of the hall quickly became accustomed to the sullenfaced young man who had joined their ranks and soon paid no more mind
to him than they did to the thane’s other pet.
Roman nibbled on his upper lip as he bent over the books he had spread out on the small desk. The painstaking process of translating occupied his mind and kept it from wandering into areas he’d rather it
didn’t go. He absently tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear as he
frowned over a particularly difficult section. He didn’t hear the door open, nor feel the eyes watching him, until the thane’s voice cut through his
concentration.
“Roman.”
His head snapped up, and his heart thudded in his chest as his eyes found Wulfgar standing in the doorway, watching him with a half-smirk
on his face. Roman wiped the nib of the quill and set aside the parchment he’d been working on, rising to his feet.
“My lord.” He ducked his head. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“So I noticed.”
Wulfgar’s voice held a wry note, and Roman flushed with shame. His duty was to Wulfgar, and he hadn’t even seen his master come into the
room. He’d never been so careless in his attention before, but then,
Wulfgar hadn’t been paying him much attention at all the past three weeks. He pressed his lips together, worry and bitterness niggling at his
mind.
“Come here, Roman.”
Roman nodded and approached the thane, eyes darting up to meet the familiar cool gray. Perhaps the thane was finished ignoring him; perhaps he hadn’t lost his favor after all. Roman didn’t love Wulfgar, but he did need him. And if Wulfgar lost interest in him, as it appeared he had since Aron’s arrival, it could only mean terrible things for Roman. He didn’t want to imagine what would become of him if he were permanently cast from the thane’s side.
“Yes, my lord?” He kept his voice quiet, respectful, but he couldn’t hide the hope in it, looking up at him through his lashes.
“Go and find Aron for me.”
Anger flared, and Roman lowered his eyes so Wulfgar wouldn’t notice. Aron. “Yes, my lord.” He could feel his safe haven, his orderly existence, slipping through his fingers, all because of a young man who neither understood his own power nor cared to. Aron didn’t want to be the thane’s favorite anything, while Roman didn’t know how to be anything but. And somehow their positions were reversed, the exact opposite of what either of them wanted.
The thane’s fingers under his chin forced Roman’s head up, and a swell of hope sprang up in his chest again, part of him wanting to drop to his knees and beg Wulfgar to remember him, remember that Roman was the one who had served him these last four years. Roman was the one who had spent many a night going over battle strategies, handled management of his lands when Wulfgar was too busy, warmed his bed. Why didn’t Wulfgar remember, and what would become of Roman if he never did?
As if sensing his thoughts, the thane smiled and dropped a hard, possessive kiss on Roman’s lips. He whimpered and opened for him, but before he could reach up to twine his arms around him, Wulfgar had pulled back.
“You’ll always be mine, Roman.”
Roman flushed, ducking his head and nodding. He tried not to smile at the affectionate slap to his flank Wulfgar gave him as he ushered him out to find Aron. He hadn’t known that Wulfgar had noticed his agitation over the past several weeks.
At first, he’d been somewhat grateful to share his duties in Wulfgar’s bed, but after a time it’d become apparent he wasn’t sharing anything. Wulfgar no longer called him to his bed at all. Nor had he taken the time to speak with Roman about strategy, or any other subject for that matter. It was as if Roman was a piece of the furniture and nothing more.
Perhaps he was imagining things. Perhaps the bloom was off the rose with Aron, and now Wulfgar would turn to him again.
A
RON propped his chin on the back on his hands, leaning against the rough fence surrounding the sparring area and watching intently as the two battle-lords squared off, the clang of swords connecting and the grunts of exertion soothing in an odd way. He had always wished he could be a part of this, but now that he was here, it was not as a warrior, as he’d imagined. Instead, it was as a whore. One tolerated but still separate. The warriors and battle-lords didn’t scorn him, at least not most of them, yet he was not one of them, just an observer. It nettled him, and sometimes he wondered why he tormented himself by coming every day to the yard to watch the training sessions.
In truth, he knew why. Because anything was better than lingering in that room where every night the thane made it clear there was only one thing Aron possessed that anyone in this hall cared about, and that was his body. So he spent his days avoiding that room and its implications as much as possible.
His eyes shifted and caught sight of Roman approaching. Aron’s stomach clenched. That could mean only one thing, and he gritted his teeth, shame flushing him. That one was another reason to avoid the thane’s chambers during the day, as the slave did not ever seem to leave them, at least not unless he’d been ordered to.
Aron was unsure what Roman’s story was. He was a slave, he knew that much, not a thrall like himself. But beyond that, no one spoke of him. It was as if he was a ghost in the hall; the servants, warriors, and battlelords kept their distance and hardly seemed to notice his presence. Aron could not help but notice.
There was something about the dark young man that drew Aron’s eye, his attention. He carried himself with a dignity that belied his station, and there was a sharp intelligence in his midnight eyes that was unmistakable. Aron wondered yet again how Roman had come to be here, where he was from, and why he did not try to free himself.
“Aron.” Roman’s voice was quiet as he came up beside Aron. “Wulfgar requested I come and fetch you.”
Aron’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ignore him, refuse to follow him back to the hall for whatever new torment the thane had devised. But he knew better and gave a short nod, pushing away from the fence and saying nothing as he stalked toward the hall. Roman followed behind him silently, and Aron was sorely tempted to shout at him for no other reason than there was no one else to shout his anger at.
Wulfgar was seated on the bed when they stepped into the room. Aron’s eyes met his as the thane stroked his beard, looking them over. Aron sneered inwardly; in all likelihood, the tyrant was thinking about whatever new degradation he’d devised.
“I wish to see you undress each other.”
Aron saw Roman’s head jerk up, and the shock on his face mirrored Aron’s own. When Aron glanced over at the slave, there was a worry in his eyes that was unusual. But a stern look from Wulfgar had Roman nodding and turning to Aron, his dark eyes hesitant, as if expecting a fight.
Aron was tempted to give him one but in the end clenched his jaw and allowed Roman to tug his tunic over his head, doing the same for Roman. Aron tensed as Roman sank to his knees and began untying Aron’s boots. He glanced up at him through thick, black lashes, and Aron exhaled and gave him a slight nod that seemed to ease him.
He reached one hand down to Roman’s shoulder to balance himself as his boots were removed, catching the sideways glance the slave threw Wulfgar’s way before Roman’s long, slim fingers curled in the waist of Aron’s trews and tugged them down and off.
Aron hesitated as Roman rose back to his feet, but the past three weeks had taught him that it was pointless to try and refuse Wulfgar what he wanted, so he dropped to his own knees and made short work of removing Roman’s remaining clothes, casting the thane an arch look as he rose back to his feet.
Wulfgar said nothing at first, just shook his head and watched them, amusement in his eyes. Aron bristled but kept his comments to himself.
“Aron, you recall your first day here, boy? Of course you do. I kissed Roman to show you how it was done.” The thane rose from the bed and approached, circling behind Roman as Aron watched, suspicious of the thane’s intent. Wulfgar’s fingers skimmed along the slave’s spine, and Roman melted when the thane bent to nuzzle his neck. Aron still did not understand that, how he seemed to not only tolerate but enjoy Wulfgar’s attentions. Aron would admit the pain was no longer there when Wulfgar took him, but despite the fact that it no longer felt like he was being torn asunder, Aron would still rather do almost anything than submit to the thane.
“You do as you’re told in my bed, Aron, but there can be more,” Wulfgar said, though he didn’t look at him, instead continuing to move his lips along Roman’s neck. “Roman knows how much more there can be, pleasure and ecstasy enough to make you scream, eh, Roman?”
Roman’s eyes opened, hooded and darker than before, and he nodded, his voice breathless. “Aye, my lord….”
Aron gave them both a disbelieving look. Roman’s fathomless eyes were fixed on his face, and he could see the pleasure in the soft smile playing on his lips. “Maybe for some,” he hedged. “But not for me.”
The thane peered at him from over Roman’s shoulder. “You think not, eh, boy?” Aron stiffened his spine as Wulfgar caught the lobe of Roman’s ear between his teeth and tugged. Aron heard the slave’s breath catch, could see him tremble as Wulfgar’s hand slid around to palm the bare expanse of his stomach.
For some reason that Aron couldn’t explain, he felt a ripple of apprehension. There was promise in Wulfgar’s tone and in the look that Roman gave him through half-lidded eyes as he submitted to the thane’s attentions.
Aron tensed further as Wulfgar’s other hand reached out, tugging him closer so that he was pressed fully against Roman, the slave murmuring in pleasure as he was now caught between them both. For reasons Aron could not explain, his stomach jumped at that quiet sound, jumped even more when Wulfgar leaned over and pressed his lips to Aron’s shoulder before moving them back to feather along Roman’s shoulder and nape, the slave arching, reaching one arm up and back to curl at the thane’s neck.
Aron’s breath came faster as he remembered Roman’s speech about capitulation being different from willingness. He had to wonder how thin that line was, when at the moment the slave looked for all the world as if there were nowhere else he’d rather be.
“Roman, pretty one, do you see what sweet lips Aron has?” Wariness filled Aron as Wulfgar brought one finger up to brush over Roman’s lips, the thane groaning as his tongue slipped out to lick at that passing finger. “Kiss him, Roman.”
Aron barely noticed how Roman’s eyes widened at that command, his own snapping up to clash with Wulfgar’s. The thane just smiled at him, then looked down at Roman to give him a nod. That seemed to soothe him, and he leaned forward and offered his lips to Aron. Aron made no move to take them, his heart pounding in his chest. This was unfamiliar, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it, his hackles rising because if he hated anything, it was being caught unawares. Wulfgar had certainly done that.
And then his thoughts were washed away when Roman took the initiative and leaned in to close that last fraction of an inch between them and brushed his lips against Aron’s. Aron felt the contact down to his toes, his eyes closing on instinct, feeling his stomach tighten when Roman’s tongue slipped out to sweep across Aron’s lower lip. He couldn’t explain his reaction to it, the tremble that ran through him. He’d never reacted to any of Wulfgar’s kisses that way, and his heart pounded even harder as Roman tilted his head, his tongue slipping out again to nudge Aron’s lips apart, though he didn’t slip it inside.
Aron fisted his hands at his side, the urge to bury his fingers in Roman’s hair startling him. After a pause, Aron let his tongue slide out, touching it lightly to the other man’s, and that seemed to be the catalyst, their tongues tangling, lips sipping at each other before breaking apart. Aron met the slave’s eyes, confused, seeing the troubled look in Roman’s dark ones before he cast them downwards and nestled back against the thane.
“That is a beautiful sight.” Wulfgar’s rough voice broke the silence, and Aron lifted his eyes, the thane’s hand splayed on his back and the long fingers stroking his skin, searing like a brand.
Aron’s eyes narrowed, and he held his body taut, though it did him no good in avoiding contact. He was pressed flush up against Roman’s warm, naked body, with Wulfgar’s hand to keep him there should he try to pull away. He wanted to curse them both, especially with the way his body reacted to that simple kiss, his belly tightening and cock stirring.
Unfortunately, Wulfgar noticed, giving him a superior smile and stepping around to stand in front of them both, one hand sliding to Aron’s hip, the other cupping the side of Roman’s neck. For a long moment the thane just looked at them, his gray eyes sliding over Roman and then Aron, looking pleased with himself. Aron felt another shiver of apprehension when Wulfgar’s hand on Roman slid to his shoulder and, without protest, the slave sank to his knees.
Aron scowled when the thane’s eyes turned on him, his heart thumping hard in his chest at the amusement he could see on Wulfgar’s face.
“Join him, boy.”
Aron had never been so tempted to throw a fit, reluctance in every line of his body as he obeyed after hesitation. The thane tossed aside his tunic before reaching down and threading a hand each through their hair. Aron didn’t relax, but he couldn’t miss the way Roman tilted his head into the touch and smiled in obvious pleasure. Aron glowered at him.
“Undress me, both of you.”
Aron pursed his lips and began tugging at the crossties of Wulfgar’s boots, watching out of the corner of his eye as Roman did the same, though with more graceful, eager movements. Aron again had the thought that Roman’s line between capitulation and willingness must be thin indeed.
When Wulfgar stood proudly nude before them, Roman leaned forward without guidance and pressed his lips to the thane’s thigh, turning his head to nuzzle at his balls as well. Aron sat back on his heels, jaw dropping in shock. He couldn’t believe that Roman voluntarily did such a thing, and he quickly became determined that he would be damned if he ever was so eager. He could not explain the lurch in his belly as he saw a tongue, soft and pink, slip out to lick.