Chapter Ten

When Fox returned to Kaladas, he set the bowl near the fireplace and waved for those present to help themselves, which many leapt to do.

Byr Drashnal was there with them although he would have been readily welcomed at Saravar. Surrounded by knights possibly younger than Fox, he smiled pleasantly when he caught Fox observing him. Fox nodded in return but wasn’t in the mood to watch flirting or whatever those cubs playing at being knights wanted from Byr Drashnal that evening.

Conall’s other friend from Fox’s first night in Kaladas grabbed some grapes before collapsing heavily onto one of the benches. “You appear to be searching for something,” he remarked idly, or not, to Fox.

Byr Rolfi, smoothly passing Fox to plop down next to his friend—or more than friend, since he leaned over to take his grapes but stayed half in his friend’s lap as he ate them, added, “Last I saw, Conall was helping calm down one third of a crying…. Let’s say you might have a wait.”

“Oh,” Fox answered, although he hadn’t been waiting and didn’t plan to. Instead of explaining any of that, he stared at the two in front of him for a moment longer—they were scandalously close to Byr Rolfi sitting in the other one’s lap, not that anyone in the entire hall seemed to care about that or how their tails were slowly inching closer to each other. Fox suspected that a whole day of witnessing stilted conversation had left his conversation and his thinking equally stilted. He didn’t blush, doubting most of the others had heard Byr Rolfi’s comment or would have understood what Byr Rolfi apparently did.

But then, Byr Rolfi had seen Fox wearing a shirt made for a mountain after Conall must have asked him to wake Fox up. Anyone might connect those points.

Fox’s heart, which had only just started to slow after finally leaving Saravar proper and being out of the king’s sight, began to pound again. But he was used to pretending and thanked Rolfi for the information before turning to head to his room.

He would prepare himself for bed and get some sleep without any activities beforehand to leave him exhausted. It was how he’d spent his nights for a long time now, and he had nothing to say with certainty that tonight would have been different even if he had encountered Conall. He was grateful to Conall for the break in routine and the moments of pleasure, but Fox had to start being smart again, especially with Domvoda asking about Fox’s time here.

He got as far as washing his face and applying creams before undressing and putting on Conall’s large, comfortable shirt, which he had already worn to sleep so had no reason not to wear again. He was about to start work on his hair when someone knocked on his door.

Conall was in a loose shirt and breeches with no hose, and had bathed so recently that his hair was damp and the fabric of his clothing stuck to his skin. He had his mouth open as if ready to speak but silently swept a look all the way down to Fox’s bare legs and feet before bringing it back up to Fox’s clean and shining face. “You were looking for me?” he asked at last, coolly polite while his gaze started fires.

Fox was certain he had not actually admitted to looking for Conall. He ought to have words with Byr Rolfi about discretion. But since Conall was there, Fox took hold of his damp shirt and tugged, walking backwards to bring Conall into the room. He left Conall to shut the door behind them, which Conall did without taking his gaze from Fox.

“You are late,” Fox informed him crisply, as though they had a standing arrangement.

Conall gave in easily. “Sorry.”

No amount of trying to force a frown could push the smile from Fox’s mouth, so he lowered his head only to end up staring at his hand, which he had presumptuously left on Conall’s chest.

“Such an annoyed expression on your lovely face,” Conall observed, bringing Fox’s head back up. “Are you truly furious or do you just want to be? I can apologize again.”

He had no right to be amusing. Fox had been contemplating a lonely night and now he wasn’t and it was upsetting in some way he would be willing to ignore if Conall kissed him. Conall, unfortunately, did no such thing.

He ran up a ticklish touch up the side of Fox’s neck to the wisps of Fox’s hair that had fallen from his braiding and asked, “Your hair was all right today? No pulling? I know you didn’t get a chance to style it as you usually do, but this look really does flatter you. Now you’re making the face again. What?”

He genuinely didn’t know. First, he remembered what Fox had briefly complained about the night before, then he gave compliments, and he was still not kissing Fox.

That was no reason for the smile to win out, yet it did. Fox flicked his tail back and forth to hopefully distract Conall from this. “You’re interfering with my routines.”

“I can go,” Conall offered in return, although he didn’t actually move to leave even before Fox gripped his shirt tighter to keep him there. Laughter lightened his voice. “Worth a few routines, am I?”

“You’re very smug today,” Fox told him with as much ice as he could manage. “Did you smash some other knight into the dirt while sparring?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.” Conall stroked Fox’s neck again, slowly, waiting until Fox’s shivers ended before continuing. “Though not quite as you put it. And I got smashed into the dirt a bit myself—nothing serious, don’t worry.” Fox jerked back before the words were out, sweeping a frowning look over the parts of Conall he could see. It earned him another feather-light touch along his throat to his collarbone, Conall’s thumb lingering over the marks from the night before. “He’s quick—Drashnal,” Conall filled Fox in although his gaze was on his fingertips on Fox’s neck.

“And quite popular.” Fox huffed despite his shivers. “You don’t want to go down there to talk to him? I would understand.” His tone made it clear he would not understand and the door would remain closed if Conall tried to return after leaving him to talk with some knight. “His ears and tail are quite striking.”

Conall’s slow smile was warm but also as smug as his earlier words. “They are, but nothing to you and this.” He paused to touch Fox’s braid, where Fox had put a white rose from the garden and forgotten about it until that very moment. The flower had to be wilted by now. “I expect Byr Din will have a rose in his hair tomorrow.”

Fox twitched his tail in flattered delight before he saw the shadow of Conall’s words. He regarded Conall warily. Conall didn’t seem like someone to trade in court gossip, although he probably wanted reliable information on what the king was doing. Fox could understand that. But knowing that much about Byr Din meant Conall was well-informed indeed. If Conall knew that much, he might even know what Domvoda had said, and hinted, and that Conall’s presence here with fucking on his mind was perhaps even more of a risk for him now.

The fool stayed where he was.

Conall grew serious when Fox’s tension didn’t leave him. “Was your day too much? The heat? The pressure? I imagine no one bothered to hide their stares.”

Fox released a shuddering breath but didn’t look away. “I don’t care, you understand?” He needed at least one person to know that. “Not how people think I do.” He wasn’t pining. He wasn’t eaten alive with envy at never being chosen as consort—Fox had never once thought that would happen because he wasn’t byr and he knew passion stories of royalty and commoners mating weren’t real. He didn’t burn with jealousy at the thought of Domvoda fucking or knotting someone else. If he ever had, it had been long ago. He looked into Conall’s eyes. “But everyone is watching me and it’s like carrying a weight that grows heavier each day. No one wants to be replaceable, which you know too well. It was close to the same thing watching them discuss you and Drashnal, and… you know, it would be helpful if Byr Drashnal was less polite so he’d be easier to dislike.”

“You want to dislike him?” Conall seemed startled but only for the second before his smugness returned. “On my behalf? Ah, forgive me, Fox, but I’m going to kiss you now.” Yet he paused to raise an eyebrow and did no kissing. “Unless you have some objection.”

“Late,” Fox snapped at him again.

Conall took Fox’s face in his hands and leaned down to bestow a kiss upon his brow, and when Fox gazed reproachfully up at him, smiled before placing a kiss on his mouth as well. He followed this kiss with another, soft on Fox’s parted lips, but inched back when Fox rose onto the balls of his feet to push forward. He was still smiling, still staring down fondly as Fox gazed up, but he did not kiss.

“I bet Byr Drashnal would kiss me,” Fox informed him and enjoyed the briefly wounded look he got in return.

“He’s quick,” Conall said again as if that meant something. “I bet he’d kiss me too if I asked. And yet here I am…”

“Here you are,” Fox interrupted, shoving aside thoughts of Conall and Drashnal, their strong bodies in intimate positions, “not kissing me.”

“The Fox is needy for kisses today,” Conall said, but it didn’t feel teasing when Conall followed it by brushing silly, ridiculous kisses over Fox’s eyes and eyelashes before pressing one lighter than a spider’s web to Fox’s lips. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, tipping Fox’s chin up to kiss him again. “I forgot what a hard day you had.”

“I… didn’t.” Fox couldn’t do more than whisper and hold still as he was kissed and kissed, Conall taking a little more from him each time: Fox’s breath, the tip of his tongue, the softening of Fox’s lips as Fox waited for the next one. “Hard day?” Many people had harder days than his. “I sat or stood, listening to,” a kiss briefly stopped him, “music, or talk, or… Conall.

“Hungry Fox.” Conall sucked Fox’s bottom lip. Fox reached out, holding onto Conall with both hands to stay on his feet. “In your red and white, with your cherry lips, and strawberry hair, and that rose, daring them to try to taste you and no one did. You poor thing.”

His sources of information were either poetic or Conall had thoughts about Fox’s clothes that Fox had never guessed.

“They’re scared of me, a little,” Fox admitted, tipping his head up and getting a kiss for that too.

“I’m not.” Conall slid a hand to the back of Fox’s neck and studied Fox’s wide eyes and well-kissed mouth with visible satisfaction. “They want to be like you or be in you, like he does, but you dragged me through the door.”

Conall was entirely too pleased with himself, Fox decided, while letting Conall continue to devour him with his eyes. “I could also throw you out,” Fox reminded him seriously enough, because he was no byr plaything. He pushed lightly against Conall’s shoulder to demonstrate how he would do it.

The flash of discomfort on Conall’s face and the tension beneath Fox’s palm had Fox dropping down onto the soles of his feet to tug at Conall’s shirt. “You’re hurt? Bruised?” Smashed into the dirt a bit. Fox should’ve known.

“Yes.” Conall took Fox’s hand and moved it up to his shoulder before bending down as if to continue kissing. “Don’t worry about it, really. It’s barely anything.”

“‘Barely anything’ that all the other knights probably saw you receive,” Fox guessed sharply, stopping Conall’s kiss before it happened. “They’ll hit you there first during the tournament, won’t they?” Knights were still byr after all, and winning meant money and an enhanced reputation, which meant possibly more money in the future.

Conall’s face was inches from Fox’s, full of impatience and annoyance and yet the same warmth as always. “You keep worrying for me.” Fox tried to glare at him and received even more of that warmth. “I’m truly all right. Just be careful of that spot, if it pleases you to.”

“You don’t need rest?” Fox pressed. If Fox felt the effects of their nights together, then surely Conall must as well, and his strength and well-being would matter in the coming days.

“Fox,” Conall said, exasperated, before ducking his head to nip the side of Fox’s neck. When Fox jolted, Conall nipped him again at the hollow of his throat and hummed when it made Fox grab him and pull until Conall’s arms came around him.

“Maybe if you took your clothes off,” Fox suggested with an innocently swishing tail, “so I can be sure you’re fine and well.”

Conall laughed shortly, a hot puff of air over Fox’s skin, then stepped back to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Fox got a glimpse of an already darkening patch where the bruise would form, then was distracted by the rest of the skin warm and flushed from the bath and the play of muscles as Conall removed his breeches.

Fox was on him before Conall could straighten again, kissing Conall’s stomach and up his ribcage to his shoulder and beneath his arm. Fox’s kisses were not butterflies or spiderwebs. Conall pulled at Fox’s shirt without removing it, smoothing up and down Fox’s back while Fox found new places to put his mouth.

“Am I fine and well?” Conall asked, voice husky once Fox began to use his tongue. In answer, Fox hummed before licking part of Conall’s collarbone. Conall was breathing harder. “Bed now?”

Fox approved.

“Bed now,” he agreed, and was on his back on the bed in seconds. His shirt had ridden up or been pushed to his armpits but Conall was naked and grinding against him while kissing him furiously, so the shirt could wait.

Fox wrapped his legs and tail around Conall and thrust up as Conall pushed down, wanting Conall to feel how hard-soft he was, how heavy and wet between his legs, his cock stiff for Conall’s weight on him and some kisses. Conall made a pleased sound but continued kissing and nipping Fox’s neck, clearly enjoying that each small bite made Fox throw his head back to gasp his name because he did it several times and growled a little before finally risking something harder.

He was going to leave more marks if no one stopped him, perhaps high enough on Fox’s throat to be noticed this time. Fox curled a hand into Conall’s hair and held him there, rocking up when Conall sucked on the tender skin where Fox’s neck met his shoulder. If they were in a story, Conall would keep Fox like this with his teeth and the force of his body, holding his fertile beloved tight on his knot until his beloved was satisfied. Because they weren’t in a story, Conall teased Fox with his teeth but did not bear down, and continued to nip Fox to make him whine until Fox hissed his name and pulled his hair.

Then and only then did he kiss Fox again, without softness but with heat enough to leave Fox melted wax over the bedding, only his arms capable of anything and that was weakly holding Conall to him while his legs spilled open and slick pooled beneath them.

“Conall,” Fox heard himself complaining, gasping when Conall slid a hand along his inner thigh just to move it away again. Fox really should resent it, or at least do more than murmur into Conall’s mouth. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

Fingers slick from Fox’s thigh were slipped over Fox’s lips, then between them. Fox opened his eyes to find Conall watching him lick and suck his own wet.

Conall gleamed gold in the candlelight. “Just a fuck?” he asked, seemingly untouched if not for the high color in his cheeks, the fast movement of his chest, and the cock that was stubbornly not yet inside Fox. “No knot?” He slid another finger into Fox’s mouth, as if Fox wouldn’t gladly take it, as if he hadn’t had Conall’s knot in his mouth the night before and made a delightful mess of himself to get it there.

“Lovely,” Conall told him, a whine of his own behind the compliment. “I thought of it all day: how your slick tastes, your spend, the need in the sounds you make.” Fox felt a small gush escape him and made a sound around Conall’s fingers that was probably exactly what Conall was describing. Conall pulled his fingers free of Fox’s mouth just to reach down and press them against Fox’s hole. Fox inched his legs farther apart in invitation and Conall slipped his fingers past the rim, withdrawing them before Fox could thrust up to get them in deeper. “The hungry clutch right here,” Conall went on, voice rough now. “Your tongue is sweet enough, but you like a knot stuffing this pretty hole, don’t you? My knot.” His satisfaction stayed hot in the air between them when he rose to kneel over Fox and put his hands beneath Fox’s knees to ease his legs up.

“One victory already today,” Fox teased in a rasp though he bent his knees readily enough. “Do you really need two?”

“You don’t win tournaments by being nice, Fox,” Conall informed him before pushing his fingers back in and watching Fox’s face while he fucked him with those alone. Three, and then four, and if he curled his hand to stuff Fox with his fist instead of his knot, Fox would be furious—once he’d stopped coming. “Complete victory,” Conall continued, looking from Fox’s hole to his face, his attention catching on Fox’s flushed cock, “is what I’m after. This is a step on the way.”

Ass, Fox wanted to snarl it at him, but the press and drag of Conall’s knuckles inside him stole his voice, and Conall kept staring. He called Fox hungry but his gaze said he was starving, and since he liked Fox’s noises, Fox gave him those instead, moaning and pushing up to hint he could take more.

“Look at you,” Conall was going to burn Fox to cinders. “Fox with no worries. No garden, no consorts. I’ll give you what you want. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to exhaust you and sate you until you can’t even beg anymore. I’m supposed to leave you so full you can barely move. You want that. Look at you. You want it so much. Yet you ask for a mere fucking?”

Slick was rushing from Fox faster than Conall could push it back in, the wet sounds making Fox writhe until Conall finally held him down.

“Mere?” Fox demanded, hushed and uncertain. His body clenched around Conall’s fingers, could not stop doing so, and Fox couldn’t squirm away. He tried to speak boldly but he was the hungry hole Conall had called him. “All because you knocked Drashnal to the dirt?”

Conall stopped, leaving Fox to milk his fingers like a desperate thing. “Because that rose serves you better than any shell jewelry ever could and if I were Domvoda, I wouldn’t have let you leave that garden without making that clear.”

Fox closed his eyes while trying vainly to work a knot where there was none. “What would you have done then? Would you have given me your knot there? Shown your potential consorts what they might also get?”

“What potential consorts?” Conall asked, bringing Fox’s gaze back to him. “Why would I ever bother with them if I had you?” He seemed to enjoy Fox’s pained moan and began to tease Fox again, fucking him with his fingers slowly, achingly so. “And yes. Outside seems the right place for you, along with the softest feather bed.”

“You would hold me down and mate me?” It seemed a reasonable question in this game Conall was playing where he was Domvoda and he gave Fox a knot for a rose.

Conall glanced to Fox’s cock, hard and leaking, then smiled up at Fox. “I would do exactly that.”

“But…” Fox trailed off, voice lost again when Conall ran his other hand through the slippery puddle of Fox’s wet and then began to toy with Fox’s cock.

“You asked about victory,” Conall reminded him as he gripped the base of Fox’s cock, slippery and hot. He squeezed before stroking about halfway up, then squeezed around the base again before bending his head to use his mouth on the tip. His mouth was almost as hot and wet as the hand relentlessly massaging the base of Fox’s cock. He used his tongue as if he wanted nothing else but Fox’s spend down his throat, unconcerned with Fox clawing through his hair. He squeezed and stroked and sucked until Fox was arching from the bed, groaning at the stir of at the base of his cock.

“I’m knotting.” They would hear Fox through stone walls. “Conall, I’m….” His surprised exclamation ended in a broken cry, Conall sucking the head of Fox’s cock harder before he pulled off. Conall’s fist stayed right where it was, rhythmically squeezing the slowly expanding knot he’d drawn from Fox.

“Does it feel good?” he panted, saying not a word about Fox curved up tight from the bed to grip his hair and stare at his mouth. “How long has it been since you knotted anything?”

“Conall,” Fox whined helplessly.

Conall sat up to push Fox back down. He took one of Fox’s hands and curled it around the hot, sensitive skin of Fox’s knot, then wrapped his over it to squeeze and stroke harder than Fox ever could have. “Knot your fist while I stuff you. Tight as you can, so you can know what you feel like.” He shifted between Fox’s legs, then lifted Fox’s hips. He bent Fox nearly in half with no effort. “Then take everything. It’s yours anyway.”

Fox watched his hand slide over the knot gleaming with his slick and then looked at Conall and thought dizzily of the garden and the sun and Conall’s knot in him with the entire court watching. He squeezed himself so hard it hurt. His words were barely a whisper. “I can’t wait. Conall. Conall, please.”

Conall sank inside slowly despite the flood of slick, his knot nearly ready to catch. Fox whined through the initial push, making noises like a starving cat. He worked his knot with his hand and imagined how it would feel to paint his hand, his stomach, with his seed, and how his muscles would tighten for that with Conall’s knot inside him. Conall would spill and spill until it pained him and still would not be able to stop. “Conall.” Fox said between little growls, burning with how demanding and spoiled he was to get fucked so hard they’d hear that through stone walls too. “Conall, please.”

Conall’s gaze was intent on Fox’s face. He murmured distracted praise: Have it, lovely, and Take it all, and Beautiful, nearly drowned out by Fox’s moans. Then his knot almost caught on another push in, and Fox made a sound like a sob, his grip on his cock getting clumsy. Conall kissed him breathlessly, as messy as everything else, as good, as right. Fox shook his head, worried Conall’s knot would get trapped outside and he wouldn’t get to feel it. He dragged Conall in with his thighs, keeping him close, breathing hoarsely while Conall worked the fat knot into his hole and hissed as it finally caught.

Conall groaned. “Fuck. Fuck, Fox…” He tried to push in impossibly deeper while Fox rolled his hips to keep that knot where he needed it. Fox was going to empty him. He was going to empty himself while Conall filled him. Everything was so sharp and hot that Fox faltered for one second, hand stilling. Then Conall said his name and Fox’s whole body tightened.

Then there was nothing but pleasure.

Fox stared at the wall by the door for some time before he realized he was staring. He considered the door for a few more moments, then closed his eyes and sighed for the warm exhale over his bare shoulder. There was more heat behind him, so he shifted backward as best as he could with his legs heavy and his arms dragging, giving a small start when this made the body behind him jerk away.

Conall said, “Ow.” Then Fox felt a tickle on his scalp before Conall and his heat returned.

Conall, Fox thought, reassured to feel Conall’s breath on his skin again. Conall was behind him, nearly touching. He must have pulled out. Fox had no memory of that, but forced his eyes open when they wanted to close so he could consider his position.

Which was on the bed, mercifully not in any wet patches, although the two of them should have drenched the bedding. The bedding that had been thrown down to the foot of the bed, he now realized. One thin blanket remained. But it was clean, and having ascertained that, Fox shut his eyes again.

Fox was clean too, or reasonably so. He didn’t feel sticky, at any rate. He didn’t feel much of anything, to be honest, except exhausted, and a sensation almost like humming in his chest, a beehive behind his ribs. His mouth was swollen and thoroughly kissed, his hole hot and closed tight to keep in his treasure.

Conall had bred him well. For a moment, Fox wished he could purr. Then the memory of the actual moment hit him. Conall had knotted him, yes, but Fox had knotted with Conall’s knot inside him.

Fox’s cries echoed in his ears, his hips still ached with the force of Conall’s thrusts. His eyes flew open again. His throat was raw. His neck stung, although when he touched the hot skin, he felt no bite marks. Some of the buzzing in his blood faded, but he pushed the moment of loss aside. Of course he hadn’t been bitten. No one would mate him, least of all Byr Conall, the Dragonslayer.

It was what they’d actually done that had Fox confused: the hoarse praise, Conall over him, within him, while watching Fox gasp and spend and work Conall’s knot until Fox was too weak to do more than whine to keep Conall inside him.

That had been like something from an ancient song. The sort of thing assumed and even common in love matches, although technically possible for everyone.

Very possible, Fox considered now with his breath stuttering. There was no technically about it.

“Fox?” Conall asked, sleepily concerned, as if Fox had been flailing with panic next to him.

“You made me… You made me knot, Conall.” Fox did his best to convey his surprise without screaming. “We knotted together.”

“Never done that before?” It was too easy to imagine a smug expression on Conall’s face, even if he was keeping everything but concern from his voice. “Well, I’m very happy to have done that with you. But if you want it again, you’ll have to wait. You took everything, like I knew you would.” Conall touched Fox’s hair, creating more tickles as he traced whatever was left of Fox’s braiding. “Will sleeping like this pain you? A pin nearly poked me in the eye just now, so it can’t feel great for you.”

“Oh.” Fox tried to move so he could sit, shifting up on one near-useless arm before Conall urged him back down.

“Just lie there and let me.” Seconds later, a crushed and somewhat wilted rose was before Fox’s face, cradled in Conall’s hand. Fox took the rose clumsily, keeping it against his chest while Conall combed his hair with his fingers, removing pins as he went.

Conall rolled over when he was done, probably to put the pins somewhere, and when he turned back, Fox had wriggled around to look at him, hastily brushing his hair out of the way so he could put his head on the pillow. He kept the rose under his chin as he looked up and did not complain when Conall gave him a kiss before lying back down.

“Had enough victories for now?” Fox wondered, Conall’s face inches from his.

Conall’s lips turned up. It was no sort of answer.

Fox frowned at that but leaned closer until he was given another kiss. Soft, as though Fox couldn’t still feel where Conall had gripped his hips and legs. Anyone who saw Fox bathe in the morning would know what Fox had been up to.

He swallowed. “Would you really… in front of everyone? Like you said?”

Conall didn’t look away. “Well, you’d have to be willing.”

If he was joking, Fox was too overwhelmed to find it funny. “Conall.”

“Fox.” Conall’s smile slowly disappeared. “Why do you think he brought you with him yesterday?”

Fox spared a second’s thought for the late hour and how long he must have drifted while Conall cleaned them if now it was early morning.

“A test,” he admitted, letting his eyes close. “Possibly to embarrass his potential consorts—and me. But mostly to see how they’d react.”

“React to what?” Conall prompted.

“To me.” Fox opened his eyes but glanced away to shrug. “A commoner as well as his old knot-warmer.”

“Fox.” Quietly firm, it brought Fox’s gaze back to Conall. “You have risen to every challenge he’s given you. He knows that, idiot though he is.” He ignored Fox’s startled indrawn breath. “You’ve done brilliantly.”

“I haven’t—”

“You have.” That was firm too. “Every time. The Extraordinary Fox. You’re the mark they have to meet, unless they can exceed it. If they didn’t know that before, they do now. That’s why he brought you along. …Part of why.”

“He thinks that well of me.” Fox couldn’t match the words to what he knew. “But the court will be crueler to me because of this. And he will let them now. If that’s another challenge, I… I’m tired.”

“Rest.” Conall kissing Fox’s brow should not have been soothing, but Fox’s brain was still addled with pleasure and Fox was fond of Conall’s mouth even when it said nonsense. “I think you’ve earned it. Knot-warmer.” Conall scoffed. “You’re much more than that and I’m not just saying so because you’ve ruined me for the night.”

Fox took a deep breath, then released it. He studied Conall with questions pushing at him and no clear way to say them. “You keep…”

Another kiss to his brow, then one to his lips. “Sleep, Fox.”

Tomorrow, Fox would manage a disgruntled glare and a comment or two about that order. Or today, if it was as late as Conall had hinted it was. For now, he shut his eyes and let out another deep breath.

“Do you want me to leave or stay?” Conall asked as Fox began to drift again.

Fox got his eyes open, found himself looking at Conall’s throat and shoulder from very close. “I’ll go,” he murmured, not certain he could move but knowing he should try. “I’m not going to put you out.”

“Fox.” Something in Conall’s tone was suspicious. Something like more smug satisfaction. “This is your room.”

Fox had had enough. “You be quiet and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Fox,” Conall agreed, still too pleased with himself but at least quieter. What might have been another kiss tickled the top of Fox’s head.

Fox scooted forward, then closed his eyes and sighed before pressing his lips to Conall’s throat since kisses seemed to be expected.