11. Declan

Chapter 11

Declan

M y temples throbbed. I lifted a hand to my head and rubbed, hoping pressure might ease the pounding. It didn’t work.

“Hey, easy now.” Rylan’s face resolved above me. “You banged your head pretty hard.”

I tried to sit up on my elbows, but a second Rylan appeared in my dancing vision. The boy’s hand found my shoulder and gently pressed me back down.

“Relax, there’s no rush. Let your senses come back before you try getting up.”

Senses. Getting up. Why was I down? What happened? Where was I?

I whipped my head around a little too quickly and was rewarded with another wave of dizziness.

“Well, fuck. Why does everything hurt?” I asked no one in particular.

Rylan’s deep rumble warmed me. “You don’t remember hitting your head on the table in the dining hall? You’d just stood to leave, then you wobbled, then wham ! You dropped like a sack of potatoes.”

“Potatoes? Why do potatoes smack a table? That doesn’t make any sense.”

A harmony of laughter joined his from across the room. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

The room remained still for a few heartbeats, so I risked a second attempt at sitting up, blinking rapidly the whole time. The pair of Rylans resolved into one, and the thin frame of Eamon appeared some feet away. He sat in a large padded chair next to a small writing desk. A lone candle burned on the desk, casting dim light and tall shadows about.

“Where am I?”

“We brought you back to my chambers. Eamon didn’t think you would want to see the physiker for . . . whatever that was.”

I shook my head. “Good call.”

Eamon stood, grabbed a tankard from the desk, and sat next to Rylan.

The three of us were on Rylan’s bed.

Dear Spirits.

“Here, drink this.” Eamon held the tankard toward me. When I winced, he said, “It’s just water.”

“Thanks,” I said, letting him tip the tankard and feed me a sip before realizing I was letting a boy feed me water. I reached up with both hands and cradled the mug as if I were a baby, pulling it out of Eamon’s hands and drinking greedily.

“Easy, you took quite a tumble,” Eamon said.

Rylan added, “Listen to Eamon. He’s studying to be a Healer.”

Even here, in the room of two boys who were carrying on a—whatever they were—I couldn’t escape talk of someone’s Gift. Both Rylan and Eamon wore the gold. Of course they did. I was the only person in the whole guild who didn’t. Even the guards and gardeners had Gifts. Hells, the custodians did, too.

I was so fucking useless.

Eamon took the empty tankard and stepped back, returning it to the table.

“Babe, why don’t you let me look at him?” Eamon said, his hand prodding Rylan to stand. As the older boy retreated, it felt like all the warmth in the room fled with him. I wanted to reach out, to grip his arm, to make him stay. I wanted him near me, shielding me from whatever. I wanted—

Gods, what did I want? Why was my mind racing so? How hard had I hit my head?

Eamon’s slender fingers pressed into my temples. They were like icicles.

“Sprits!” I pulled back. “Can you rub your hands together or something?”

Rylan laughed again. “You should feel his toes. They’re like tiny daggers of ice in the middle of the night.”

They slept together?

The room threatened that spinning thing again. I blinked hard.

Eamon’s hands gripped my shoulders and held me up.

“Look at me, Declan. Just breathe. Nice and slow now, breathe with me.”

I stared into his eyes. They were so blue, bluer than the sea or sky. Tiny flecks of amber drifted about, stars twinkling in the eternal ocean of night. I couldn’t stop staring. I’d never noticed Eamon before, not even when he and Rylan were locked in each other’s embrace. Rylan was such a presence, such a magnet for my gaze, how could I have seen anyone else?

Staring into Eamon’s eyes, I wondered how he could’ve escaped my notice.

He was beautiful.

The cut of his cheeks. The roundness of his lower lip and the thinness, almost primness, of his upper. His lashes, thick and full and black as night. And his eyes. Dear Spirits, his eyes were swirls of perfection and light.

Eamon leaned down so close I could feel his breath against my skin. I could taste it.

I wanted to taste it.

“You’ll be all right,” he declared, sitting upright and stealing the moment from me before I could do anything stupid. “But I think you should stay here for a while, at least until you get your bearings and aren’t wobbly when you stand.”

“Good plan,” I managed to say, relieved “Kiss me now” hadn’t slipped out instead. I wasn’t sure I had full control of anything anymore.

Rylan’s head appeared over Eamon’s shoulder, his hands wrapping around as Eamon’s eyes crinkled beneath the pleasure of his boyfriend’s touch. “We need to go to the library for a while. Why don’t you rest until we get back?”

I nodded. “Thanks. Feels like I could sleep for days.”

Eamon reached down and cupped my cheek.

My whole body flushed with heat.

No one had ever touched me with such tenderness, not even Keelan when we were little. Without thinking, I leaned into the touch. My heart felt like it might explode.

Eamon’s lips twitched as his smile widened. Thankfully, he had the good grace to not say a word. He brushed my skin with his thumb, as any mother—or lover—might, then stood and led Rylan out of the room, leaving me with a cold, tingling cheek, a spinning head, and a heart about to burst.

Waking took effort.

My eyes were thick with sleep, my lids as heavy as iron bars, my mouth dry and throat scratchy. But the world had stopped spinning, and my head no longer throbbed.

I allowed my eyes to creep open, reaching up to rub them. Sounds I remembered from one time before drifted to my ears. My eyes popped wide.

Across the room, Rylan sat in the padded chair. All I could see of him were his legs and his hands on Eamon’s bare back. Eamon straddled his lap. His arms were wrapped around Rylan, and their heads were smashed together as they tried to eat each other’s faces off—or kiss. From the primal sounds echoing throughout the chamber, I wasn’t sure which.

I lifted my head, embarrassed to wake in the middle of their passion, unsure how to rise and escape in the least intrusive way. Oddly, my body refused to respond when my brain ordered it to stand. It felt as though magic bound me in place, pinned me to the bed, forced my eyes open to watch the scene unfolding before me.

In truth, I didn’t want to move.

Eamon groaned, a guttural sound filled with intense pleasure I thought might’ve been mingled with pain.

I blinked again, then saw what I hadn’t noticed before.

They were naked.

Eamon was rutting against Rylan’s lap, teasing his erection that occasionally slipped free and slapped Eamon’s butt from behind. I knew I should look away rather than stare at his most private part, but I couldn’t. It was huge and veiny and so damn hard. I could almost see it pulsing and throbbing against Eamon’s skin.

A thrill raced through me. My skin tingled, and my heart thudded.

Before I could think, my own erection sprung to life with the force of a storm at sea.

The room spun again.

Dammit.

The kissing intensified.

The moaning grew louder.

Rylan muttered, “I love you so much.”

Eamon pleaded, “Get inside me, please.”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

Rylan’s hand left Eamon’s back. He reached down and stroked himself. Impossibly, he grew stiffer, harder, larger. His skin glistened in the candlelight. He’d coated himself with something, some oil.

I began to sweat.

Eamon ground against him, arching his back so Rylan’s throbbing cock teased his hole.

“I want you so fucking bad, babe,” Rylan breathed.

I watched as Rylan’s head rose to Eamon’s shoulder. He kissed and licked, then sank his teeth into the tender skin of his neck.

Eamon writhed.

And that’s when it happened.

Rylan’s eyes opened and locked onto mine.

The world froze.

Rylan’s gaze held all the fires of every forge ever lit.

I felt them burning in my chest.

In my gut.

In my groin.

He whispered something to Eamon, and the other boy glanced back. His face was all sweat and sex and lust. His eyes burned even brighter than Rylan’s.

“Throw back the covers,” Eamon said.

I blinked.

“I want to see you,” he said. “Get rid of those covers.”

I don’t know why. I may never know why. I threw back the blanket.

I was naked beneath.

When had I taken off my clothes?

Had they—?

“Touch yourself,” Eamon ordered.

The mousy, delicate flower had thorns.

I reached down and let a finger trace the head of my cock.

My whole body twitched.

“Babe, he’s so sensitive. Look at that.” Eamon’s hunger flowed through every word.

Rylan continued stroking himself.

Eamon kept grinding, his eyes fixed on my hand and cock.

I couldn’t stop staring at Rylan’s cock as it teased so close to entering Eamon.

Eamon’s head turned away, stealing my sunlight, as he pressed his lips to Rylan’s again.

Their bodies pressed together.

Eamon lifted his body.

Rylan groaned.

Eamon lowered himself, wriggling against Rylan’s cock until . . . his head vanished inside.

“Oh, fuck, yes. Babe,” Eamon whimpered.

Ryaln’s hands found Eamon’s face as they kissed with the passion of a thousand tales.

Slowly, Eamon rocked himself, taking more and more of Rylan inside him, until I could see nothing of Rylan’s cock exposed.

Then he rose again, exposing all but Rylan’s head, then slid back down.

My heart swelled and released in time.

When had I gripped myself?

I was leaking.

Eamon rose and fell, again and again.

They were no longer gentle.

Ryaln’s grip left Eamon’s face. Their lips parted.

Rylan hefted the smaller boy, spinning him around so he slumped in the chair, then shoved forward to fill him once more.

Rylan’s ass flexed, all muscle clenching and releasing.

I wanted to grab it and feel it, rub myself against it. I wanted to—

“Oh, shit!” Eamon cried out.

“Are you close?” Rylan gasped.

“Fuck, yes! Faster. Ry, fucking faster!”

Rylan’s thrusts shoved the chair against the wall, battering wood against stone as his flesh filled and stretched. Eamon’s fingers dug into Rylan’s back, scoring red lines he was sure to feel the next day.

He didn’t seem to care.

It drove him harder.

Faster.

Deeper.

Eamon shouted.

Rylan wailed.

His ass clenched as his back arched.

He groaned so loudly I was sure those in rooms nearby had heard.

He thrust a few more times, slower, softer, but just as deep.

Eamon’s pleasure echoed against the stone.

Then they fell still.

My cock raged. It begged for release.

My heart felt like an anvil beneath a smith’s mallet.

Eamon looked around Rylan, sweat drenching his brow.

“I want to watch you finish,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rylan edged back, pulling out, then turned to face me. His nakedness was as stunning as Eamon’s eyes had been. I couldn’t look away.

I couldn’t stop stroking myself.

He stepped forward, then again, until he stood within arm’s reach.

Slickness dripped from him.

Sex leaked out his hole.

Dear Spirits, what was I doing?

The first wave of pleasure came before I could think.

My body shuddered.

Rylan watched.

Eamon watched.

“Oh, shit!” I shouted.

“Fucking do it,” Eamon called.

I stroked harder.

My body jerked.

Cum shot so hard it hit my shoulder.

Then my chest.

Then my stomach.

Still, I stroked.

And came.

My whole body was ablaze with pleasure—and I couldn’t stop staring into Rylan’s eyes.

The pleasure passed almost as quickly as it had slammed into me.

I glanced from Rylan to Eamon, both naked, soaked in each other’s sweat and sex, and staring at me like I was another serving of roast beef on their plate.

What in all hells had I done?

What was I doing?

I leaped from the bed, ignoring what dripped from my skin, and pulled on my breeches.

“Declan—” Rylan reached a hand out.

I jerked away.

“I can’t . . . I’m not . . . Fuck, I have to go.”

I grabbed my tunic and boots, cradling them to my bare, sticky skin, and ran out of the room.