The Red King (14 page)

Rory moved closer and stood over them,
watching, waiting. Andrew’s face was flushed, wet, eyes on Rory
even as he neared his completion. He groaned and his hips jerked in
a brief, staccato rhythm for just a moment, and then he went rigid.
The girl was still astride him, her hips grinding slowly down on
his pelvis. Rory knelt on one knee beside them and they both
stilled. “She’s still wanting, Andrew. You have to touch her, like
this,” he said, taking Andrew’s hand and bringing it to her
slippery fold.

“No, Rory,” Andrew begged, but Rory guided
their fingers over her cunny and she squealed. Rory continued,
curling his fingers where they wrapped with Andrew’s, causing her
to writhe against Andrew’s cock and bring him to erection once
more.

“Look how you swell for her,” Rory
whispered.

“No, not her,” Andrew whispered. He pulled
Rory’s fingers down a little more, fitting them around the base of
his cock. Now the girl was bobbing happily, lips curved in a
beatific smile as Rory held Andrew steady.

“My way is not the only way. Most men prefer
this,” Rory said. “She’s flawless.
Magnifique
,” he added in
passable French.

The girl began riding Andrew solely for her
own pleasure, all the way up to the tip and down again hard, thighs
taut as she squeezed inside. He was panting again, a young man
helpless against his own long-ignored needs but still focused on
Rory.

“Why—” Andrew broke off, making an incoherent
sound as he climaxed. The girl dismounted, clucking to him in
French, patting his hair and kissing his cheeks. Her naturally pale
form was as flushed as Andrew’s. Clearly she rarely enjoyed a youth
so fresh, lovely, and virile. Rory, who’d already paid her, thanked
the girl and sent her away. Then he pulled off his boots, cast away
his clothes, and slid into the bed. Andrew sat up and drew away.
Reaching out to touch his back only caused Andrew to throw himself
from the bed.

“Don’t!” He was angrier than Rory had ever
seen. Even bearing the howls and calls of the crew had not engaged
his fury at this level.

“What wounds you so that I cannot touch you?”
Rory asked, frustrated by the reaction.

“What wounds me? You cannot fathom what wrong
you have just committed?” Andrew asked, face red and eyes
blazing.

“No more wrong than I committed on the ship.
From my view you found your pleasure equally each time,” Rory
answered coolly.

“You…you forced this on me!” Andrew seethed,
teeth clenched so tight Rory could see the tendons of his jaw
working. “You took my choice away from me! It was as base, as vile
as the threats made by Acklie; and by you, once, too. Why? Why
would you do such a thing?”

“You know so little of the world. I won’t be
responsible for twisting your desires. Not without at least
offering the alternative.”

“You can’t!”

“Can’t what?”

“You can’t twist my desires, they’re mine and
not under your control.” He shook his head as if Rory had
deliberately insulted his reason. “I was raised by simple men, not
simpletons. Why do you always take me for a fool? What would it
have cost to offer me the temptation instead of this…cruelty?”

The sense of it weighed on Rory’s heart. He
could not argue the point, or the intelligence behind it and he
felt worse for bungling the entire affair. “I thought only to give
you all the pleasures you’ve denied yourself.”

“It would have been pleasure, had you offered
it. Instead, I felt like a toy, something to be thrown away once it
has been used,” Andrew whispered.

Rory rose from the bed and embraced him, his
arms pressing them tightly together. “Forgive me, again. Please. It
was a mistake.”

Andrew pulled back enough to look into his
face, as if searching.

Rory frowned, staring down into Andrew’s
eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t think…it wasn’t my intention to cause
you distress,” he said, after a long pause. Andrew looked
conflicted, his reticence to forgive warring with his forgiving
nature and spilling fully into his expression. The silence
stretched between them, tense and unyielding, until Rory broke with
a neutral request.

“I long for a real bed, Andrew. To
sleep.”

Andrew nodded. They lay down together, facing
each other but not touching.

“Never do that again,” Andrew said, and
closed his eyes.

Rory did not sleep for a long time.

Upon waking, Rory found Andrew draped across
his chest and thighs, still sleeping soundly. Soft breath caressed
his skin where Andrew’s face was pressed and there was an insistent
hardness at his hip. The rigors of youth would not be denied it
seemed, even after the unusual amount of attention recently paid to
his ardor. Rory wanted nothing more than to pull Andrew on top of
him, to kiss and rut until they were both spent, but Andrew woke
before he could act.

Rory had already become fond of watching
Andrew’s face, of seeing the sun in his blue eyes and his sleepy
grin. He waited for Andrew to blush as he became more aware of his
body’s demands. What he got, though, was a frown. Andrew pulled
away immediately. He sat up, pressed a hand to his cock and closed
his eyes as if he wished to will it away.

“You needn’t do that,” Rory said, sitting up
behind him. He bent to press his lips to the nape of Andrew’s neck
but was denied the pleasure by Andrew moving farther away from
him.

“No.”

It was his instinct to take Andrew,
regardless of his denial, but his mind declared it folly. “Must I
insist?” he asked.

“If you want my cooperation, my willing
participation, you will not.”

The announcement took Rory by surprise. His
internal litany of curses returned. “Andrew, I have asked your
forgiveness. You told me yesterday you would grant it.”

“I said I would try. What happened last night
went far outside of what I believed our arrangement to be. It
ceased to be an accord and returned,” he paused, taking a breath
before continuing, “to the more vulgar status of captain and
captive.”

“Indeed,” Rory sighed. He moved past Andrew
to rise, meaning to dress and leave the room. Instead, Rory turned
to face him. “I say again, it was a grievous error. It was meant as
a gift, enlightenment, so that you could decide your future with
all options before you.”

Something occurred to Andrew. Rory saw the
realization of it in his face. “It was a test, wasn’t it? A test to
see if my loyalties would suddenly change when presented with some
other pleasure.”

Faced with the truth of it, Rory conceded.
“Yes, it was. It was conceived by Etienne but condoned by me. It is
not so far-flung to imagine a youth of your passions to be lead by
them. We have to be certain you are committed to the cause.”

“So, Etienne is involved in your plan, as
well? Again, you show me no confidence. If you want my help, Rory,
I have to know everything. You can’t expect me to do your bidding
without explanation and you cannot require trust from me when you
do not offer the same,” Andrew said, his words heated. He stood and
began to dress himself.

“When the time comes…” Rory began, but Andrew
stopped him.

“The time has come and gone, Rory. If my
devotion to you and your cause is not evident in my actions there
is no more proof I can give. Put me back to work on your ship to
pay my shot if you think me so incapable of understanding.”

Rory took Andrew by the arms and stared hard
into his eyes. ““I will tell you, I swear it. But not here, not
now. I wanted to wait until …”

“Until what?”

“We’re home,” Rory finished, slightly
surprised at saying it.

Andrew quieted. “Home?”

“Tipaza is a ruin, an old Roman village long
since deserted. There is another beside it; mostly Berbers, a mix
of others. It’s very small,” Rory continued, loosening his grip on
Andrew’s arms, “but beautiful and peaceful.” He soothed the places
his thumbs had dug, running his palms over the spots with care. He
watched the anger fade from Andrew’s eyes.

“It comforts you, this place,” Andrew said,
nodding as if he understood.

“Yes.” Rory was once again grateful for
Andrew’s intelligence and in his heart vowed never to take it for
granted again. “I ask that you wait, please. It is not an easy
thing for me, telling this tale.”

Again Andrew nodded, sighing deeply as if
tired. “Yes, of course. Will it always be so, always this struggle?
You would achieve so much more with openness, Captain.”

Rory smiled a little and took his chin. “You
are correct, again.” Slowly, he lowered his head, offering the
choice.

Andrew stepped into the kiss, closed mouthed,
but pulled away before it could deepen. “I’m hungry,” he said. He
returned to his clothes, still serious. Still distant.

It was tempting to tease, for Rory to relieve
the tension by jesting about the feast he could offer, but he held
his tongue. Andrew was far too troubled by what had transpired.
Once again, Rory had received his comeuppance. He was man enough to
admit, at least to himself, that Andrew was teaching as much as he
was learning.

Rory reached for his own belt and breeches,
forgoing shirt and boots in the comfortable halls of Etienne’s
villa. He waited for Andrew, reflecting on his words and the
promise in that short kiss. It was evident that Andrew had embraced
his freedom, took his free will seriously. Rory supposed that the
trade, honesty and communication for a willing and eager pupil,
would be prosperous for them both. He watched Andrew struggle with
his boots, only feeling his fond smile after it fairly split his
face, and told him, “If you can finish before the sun sets, we may
yet break our fast.”

Andrew looked up and said in a dispassionate
tone, “I didn’t ask you to wait for me.”

“I am practicing consideration,” Rory said,
leaning his shoulder against the wall.

Andrew lowered his head but not quickly
enough to prevent Rory seeing the twist to his lips. “It is a
worthy endeavor.” He stood and made his way towards the door.

“Truly?” Rory met him halfway, stepping in
his path.

Andrew was not smiling now, but his eyes no
longer held any anger. “I believe there will be sufficient reward
for your trouble,” he said, softly, and walked around Rory.

Rory followed him, realizing as Andrew made
his way purposefully through the connecting rooms that Etienne had
likely shown him the entire villa. “While on your explorations, did
Etienne show you his chambers?” Rory asked. He could not keep the
strain of envy from his voice.

“He did, in fact,” Andrew answered. “We had a
lovely supper and I went to bed, where you found me.”

“Is that all?”

Andrew stopped. “No, he offered more. I
declined.”

“Why?” Rory asked. They were standing very
close together in a narrow corridor, the only light reaching them
from the open windows in the room ahead of them.

“Because I do not fear what I feel and I do
not need to prove myself,” Andrew answered.

Rory was struck by his openness. Andrew
didn’t lie, he wasn’t afraid; it was evident in his soulful gaze
and the gentle way he took Rory’s fingers in his as he spoke.

“I fear what I feel, Andrew. I fear it
controls me,” Rory confessed in a whisper.

“There are times when you must let it. You
cannot control everything and you will do yourself harm in trying,”
he said.

“I could hurt others…I could hurt you.”

Andrew sighed. “You could have hurt me a
hundred ways since our first meeting. You did not, until last
night.”

“I was plagued by doubt,” Rory began but
Andrew spoke over him.

“Your doubt was provoked, intentionally, by
Etienne. He insists that I am fickle, lacking in fortitude?”

Rory shook his head. “He only wants to be
sure. He is on my side.”

Andrew frowned, squeezing Rory’s fingers.
“Our side, Rory,” he said.

The raw emotion in Andrew’s eyes moved Rory.
He was could only stare back, allowing his own eyes to show as much
as his shuttered heart would allow. After a moment, Rory nodded.
“Thank you,” he whispered.

Andrew released his hold and made his way
down the hall. When Rory put a hand on the small of his back, he
did not protest.

They found the eating couches empty save for
Etienne. He lounged on a cushion, dressed in crimson robes and was
being fed bits of fruit by a dark haired, dusky skinned youth in a
sheer ivory caftan. “
Ah, bonjour mon sucreries!
”

Rory scowled at him and Andrew said
nothing.

“And what plagues you two this morning?”

“A rat,
monsieur
,” Andrew answered,
taking an orange from the spread of fruits, nuts, and grains on the
low table. He flung himself down on the adjoining couch and set
about peeling the skin and pith away.

Etienne eyed Rory, who ignored him in favor
of the honey-sweetened couscous and lamb. “A rat, you say?”

“Aye, a great, grey haired beast dug his way
into the center of our room and left a pile of his droppings. It
was quite disruptive,” Andrew continued, with great aplomb.

Rory coughed, hiding his grin behind a hand.
He looked to Etienne, who had a delighted, surprised expression on
his face.

“Indeed! Well, I shall have a servant come to
clear the mess,” the silver-haired man said.

Rory coughed again, loudly, surreptitiously
shaking his head.

“No matter. It has been dealt with,” Andrew
said, sharply, glancing from Rory to Etienne. He pried a section of
his orange apart and popped it into his mouth.

Etienne chuckled, staring admiringly at
Andrew and rather piteously at Rory. “I don’t know what you have
planned for your day,
Ruaidhri
, but do hope it entails
leaving him with me.” He waved his servant away, saying, “Nadir,
get them some tea.”