Chapter Twenty-Six

The walk from Saravar to Kaladas gave Fox time to fret over what he had done until his insides were tangled and his hands were clasped tightly around the prize purse. It didn’t help that whenever his thoughts began to race, he would feel his tail slide against Conall’s quite shamelessly and then Conall would glance toward him with an insufferably smug look on his face.

Or rather, it did help Fox feel better, and the fact that it did set him to worrying again. Fox was being ridiculous, or using Conall, pinning his future to him to get away from the court and Domvoda, or… whatever Fox was doing. Agreeing, however tentatively, to a mating with Conall because Fox liked Conall very much and Conall was passion-struck for him.

Surely that wasn’t fair to Conall. Fox wasn’t passion-struck for him or in love with him in return. Fox told himself that several times, stressing it forcefully when they entered Kaladas and found it empty except for a servant busy cleaning ashes from the fireplace. Anyway, Conall’s feelings would fade the moment Fox of a tiny village sullied the ancestral home of the Vulpets.

Yet Fox continued to walk alongside a silent, smiling Conall, and move as they walked so their tails might brush together or wrap loosely around each other no matter the shocked stare of the servant by the fireplace.

He went with Conall to Conall’s room and stood inside the area of clear space between Fox’s many trunks and the bed. If Fox left on his own, he would have to arrange storage for all his trunks. Perhaps he could rent a room in the capital. Or he could buy a small house there, he realized belatedly and with some distraction as Conall turned from him to remove his belt and the knife in it.

If Fox went with Conall, the trunks would go with him and Conall might be annoyed at the number of them. Although, as Fox thought that, Conall put the knife down on top of one with a glance toward Fox for permission, and, after Fox nodded, carried on without any visible annoyance at the reminder of how much space Fox took up. Fox had no idea how to plan around that, much less anything else. He had never anticipated a passion-struck Dragonslayer offering to marry him.

Conall slipped his surcoat over his head and tossed it toward his own trunk with a pleased sigh.

“Those freckles when you blush,” he remarked admiringly, facing Fox again to look him over. “If we travel slowly, maybe I can convince you to ride a few hours in the sun with no shirt. I’ll bet your shoulders freckle adorably.”

Fox huffed. “I’ll just turn red and stay that color.” Never mind how pleasant it would feel to have the sun’s warmth on him, however briefly. Or to think of what Conall might do upon discovering the new freckles. “No.” Fox ended his own thoughts with the tiniest scowl. “We should discuss things other than my easily burned skin. You’re the one who should be without clothing in the sun, anyway. Your skin probably shines like gold.”

“Like gold?” Conall raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. Then, slowly, a lighter version of his smug smile returned. “Do you think of me as beautiful, Fox?”

“I do not think of you,” Fox lied to Conall’s beautiful face. “It’s troublesome to think of you. Dangerous.” That was less of a lie.

“Even now?” Conall was surprised again. “Or is that a habit from before when you wouldn’t look at me because you wanted to look at me?”

He would remember everything. It might have been his habit from before; gathering and memorizing every scrap of information about the object of his passion that he could without being allowed near him.

Fox dropped his gaze to the floor. “I have spent the past two days worrying over you nearly every single moment. Don’t tease me.”

The faintest jingle from the chain mail warned Fox this time that Conall moved.

“I didn’t know that.” Conall sighed it. “I suspected it, but I didn’t know it.” He leaned down to press a kiss to Fox’s crown. “I am sorry for your tender heart and what it’s gone through, but I won’t take my victories back. And they did you some good, in the end.” He nudged Fox’s arm beneath the prize purse but didn’t touch the purse itself.

“What if something had happened to you?” Of the many questions on Fox’s mind, that was not the one he’d meant to voice. “You can’t do and say these things to me and then abandon me.” He had not meant to say that either.

Conall’s tail wrapped around Fox’s hips to keep him still before Fox could dart away. “I shouldn’t make you consider a future and then take it from you?” He questioned Fox softly but didn’t seem to expect an answer. “I didn’t know you had considered it and I am sorry for that too. But I have no intention of taking the future you dreamed of from you.” He gave Fox another small kiss. “Though I admit, I feel pleasure knowing that you dream of me.”

“You just like victory,” Fox grumbled with his head down.

“I do.” Conall was still Conall, no matter how gentle his kisses could be. “But I also like that you were happy enough with me to want to stay that way. If you allow it, I will do my best to continue making you happy, Fox.”

Fox took a deep breath. “I thought what was said in the receiving rooms told you what I felt.” He raised his head. “But you’re asking?”

Conall looked caught out, eyes wide before he glanced away. “You might have said that to wound him—which I would understand. Regardless, if you think about what exactly was said, you will realize that you’ve agreed to nothing.” He worked his jaw, bothered or in pain, then turned back to Fox. “As for everything else… do you know what you told me?”

He regarded Fox gravely but there was a hint of eagerness in his tone and in the tightening of his tail around Fox before he relaxed it.

Fox was never going to stop blushing. A flush of new heat reached his neck before warming him beneath his clothes. “I declared to everyone that I prefer you to the king and implied that you knot me so well that I beg for it.” He had also twined his tail with Conall’s several times without meaning to and hidden his hot face against Conall’s chest. “I called you brave. The bravest person I have ever met.” Conall nodded but seemed to be waiting for more, so Fox drew his eyebrows together to reconsider the scene in the receiving rooms. “Which is likely why I feel so shaken inside around you. I am not brave. I simply do what I have to. You… you choose things.”

His reward was the light in Conall’s eyes, exactly what it had been when Conall had stood with him before Domvoda. “Which I have the freedom to do as a byr, according to you. But now you have that as well, so you may also choose.”

Fox felt decidedly quaky again and was not surprised when his tail found Conall’s. He couldn’t seem to control it anymore. There were newly married people out in the world with more sense and decorum than Fox. Anyone would think he was passion-struck too.

Conall stared down at him, apparently pleased with whatever he saw. He bent to give Fox another kiss, then said, “Perhaps you would worry less and think on your choices easier if you were comfortable. I know I plan to be.”

With that, he reached up to the guard over his weakest shoulder to tug one-handed at the straps.

“Show me how to do it?” Fox requested, as though he hadn’t already put the purse down on the small table before slapping Conall’s hand away to get the buckle for him.

The look Conall gave Fox made him feel ridiculous and perfect for it. But in the next moment, Conall was guiding Fox through the removal of that and then his greaves and his boots. He took off his mail while Fox clucked around him uselessly and then seemed to take joy in slowly undoing the buttons of his protective doublet under Fox’s riveted stare. When he pulled off his undershirt as well, Fox sighed with all of a lonely fifteen-year-old’s longing.

“Do you wish to be comfortable?” Conall asked, distracting Fox from his thoughts of seeing Conall shirtless, or more, under the sun. “You’re still carrying your lute.”

Fox twitched with surprise to realize that was true and slipped the strap over his head before setting the instrument against the table by the door. “We should be packing.” He finally said what he’d meant to say at the start of this. “I should be packing,” he amended quickly. “Do you really want all these things in your way? That is—” Fox paused, horrified, then tripped over his own words. “They don’t have to be in your way. I don’t have to be in your way. I didn’t mean to assume. I’m sure it’s a large estate with many rooms.”

Conall picked up Fox and set him on the edge of the bed as if Fox weighed no more than the lute. “I am not Domvoda,” he said fiercely. “I have asked you to mate, Fox. You are right to assume that means I would have you with me, in my bedroom if you’re willing.” He slid a hand down Fox’s calf to his foot, removing the slipper as he did. He did the same to Fox’s other foot, then dropped the slippers to the floor. “But it is a large estate… certainly larger than this room. So if you want your belongings elsewhere, space will be found for them. Even the slippers that hurt your feet so much if you desire to take them with you.” He met Fox’s startled stare. “Shall I continue?” He held the end of one ribbon garter with his fingertips. “Like this?” he asked as though he didn’t already know how to undress Fox. He tugged and the bow slid free. The knot likewise gave way without a fight.

With the last ribbon still fluttering to the bed, he began to roll down Fox’s hose. His rougher hands might catch on the delicate fabric, but he took care and Fox did not tell him to stop.

“Do you plan everything?” Fox wondered, undoing the buttons at his collar and cuffs to make the removal of his doublet easier.

“I take advantage of opportunities as they appear.” Conall teased newly bared skin. “Anyone might do that.”

“You arranged some of those opportunities,” Fox muttered to be heard while parting his legs to let Conall closer. Conall brushed Fox’s hands away to work on the rest of Fox’s buttons himself. “Like this one,” Fox pointed out, since he had been placed on the bed. “And earlier.” He watched Conall pretend to be focused completely on undoing a row of tiny buttons. “Passion-struck for me you may have been, but you don’t really know me. You should think on this.”

Conall didn’t even pause. “We have a whole journey to make, if you choose to come with me. And once we reach our destination, you are free to leave, or leave and return, or visit me as it please you.”

“What of what pleases you?” Fox had to ask, even while lifting his arms so Conall could gently pull the doublet and then Fox’s undershirt away.

Conall met his eyes. “I’m fairly certain the passion was telling me you will please me, and so far, it has not been wrong. You please me greatly, Fox, which I made clear to you both last night and today.”

Very clear, Fox reflected faintly.

He tried to rally despite how smoothly Conall pushed Fox’s breeches down to expose the tops of his hips. “Because of one moment where you saw me and you trembled inside?” The question left Fox frowning, caught on part of a memory. The rest of his words did much the same, falling from him slowly and clumsily. “And then felt as if all would be as it should if I were with you?”

“Do you think I am not trembling inside now?” Conall asked, taking one of Fox’s hands and holding it to his chest. Fox could feel no tremble, only a heat to match Conall’s gaze.

“It doesn’t soothe you to be near me?” Fox didn’t mean to sound petulant but he had never imagined someone being calmed by his presence, and for the second he had, the idea had been pleasant.

Conall raised his head to look at him, his interest hotter with every moment that passed. “Do you know we’ve never done this in daylight? You turn fascinating shades of pink in unexpected places.” Fox resisted the urge to cover himself. Conall smiled. “Something new I’ve learned about you already. Imagine what else we might discover in time.”

That did not answer Fox’s question, but was intriguing enough to make him look up—after tossing his head to make his curls bounce and draw a sigh from Conall. “What might we learn?”

Conall’s hand in Fox’s hair made Fox sigh in turn. Conall petted him sweetly as though he hadn’t undressed Fox intending to touch much more than Fox’s hair. “Were your parents happy with each other that you remember?”

“Yes.” Fox frowned again. “I think so. I mostly recall tone of voice, not their words, but even that is vague. I… I remember the ceiling above my bed, and how the kitchen looked, and my bearer telling me stories. They touched each other.” The memory was sudden but clear; his bearer greeting his other parent by twining their tails without turning from the oven. “Their tails, probably only at home. But they…. Yes, they were happy.”

“Mine were as well.” Conall’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his smile. “And passion-struck. My sister was not. It took her years to settle down because she had some idea of all the things she wanted to do before worrying about love or finding someone, but she and her spouse are inseparable now. Struck or not, friends or lovers, everyone has to learn about themselves and each other, and how to move around and with one another. Here we are in this tiny room, encircled by all of your things,” he went right on despite Fox’s scoff, “but we’ve done all right so far. We walked Saravar together and it’s still standing.” Fox scoffed again. Conall’s smile went vicious. “You are kinder than I am, but I’m willing to cede to your soft heart if you’re willing to let me be ruthless for you. Think of what we might do in a wider world.”

The Fox and the Dragonslayer, like some sort of story.

“Is that all?” Fox narrowed his eyes. Saravar was standing, it was true, but he doubted the two of them would ever be invited back. Conall might regret that later.

“All?” Conall echoed Fox incredulously, then smoothed out his expression to regard Fox seriously. “Yes. That’s all, if you want to try. Learning each other and making a path that pleases us. And I will take care of you.” He added that as if it was not conditional, a clause in a contract like what Domvoda might sign with a fertile: Byr Conall Zainvilk Vulpets et suntene will take care of the creature known as Fox.

Fox swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. No one had taken care of Fox since he’d been a child. He didn’t need that.

But he trembled, then reached for Conall, hiding against him because it felt right.

“Pink even on the tips of your ears,” Conall observed with pleasure.

Fox’s ear tips were normally pink. He didn’t want to imagine their shade now.

He raised his head, so close to Conall that he had to lean back to meet his eyes. “Complete victory?” It was a whisper. “Even over me?”

“Are you scared?” Conall whispered back, gently tugging the pins from Fox’s hair after Fox nodded. “You had your triumph over me within seconds.”

“You wanted me.” That, Fox recognized. He wet his lips, then tried the words. “To mate me.” Lightning shot through him, his tail hitting the bedding with force. “As you would like to breed me—in play.”

A breeding necessarily involved fucking and knotting. A mating might, or might not, although if feelings were involved in the fucking, then knots would almost certainly happen. Either way, a mating went beyond whatever was, or wasn’t, done in bed. It was a way to express feelings too great for words or formal ritual.

Well, perhaps one word.

Passion, Fox thought, almost faint.

His pulse felt heavy, a slow throb at his wrists and between his legs. He tried to clamp his thighs closed, but Conall was between them, leaving Fox with no way to get friction unless he used one of Conall’s thighs.

The room was too hot. Fox’s skin was stinging and he was seconds from growing wet. He was as suddenly desperate as he’d been the night before the tournament, in this very bed on top of Conall, teasing Conall with the idea of a play-breeding. Conall had begun to form a knot with barely a touch. Fox had been dripping.

Fox squirmed and didn’t bother to hide it. “Win or lose, I promised you that.” His wriggling or his aroused flush brought Conall’s hands to his hips to push Fox further back onto the bed. Color rushed through Conall’s face too. “A breeding.” Fox made sure his voice was at its prettiest. “They are all there now, imagining me pleading for your knot. They don’t know you will be in this bed for hours trying to get your young on me.”

His own words made him lift his hips, as if anything was going to ease the ache inside him now except Conall’s knot.

“Fox,” Conall begged, voice already rough.

Fox shook his head, curls flying, his eyes fixed on Conall as he slid onto his back. “You will, won’t you?” he asked earnestly, only distantly concerned with the realities of a true breeding or what else this might feel like. “You’ll hold me, and mount me, and give me your seed until it takes? Two days I’ve had to wait for you, for this. Will that be enough? Should I make you wait longer so you can fill me without end?” He whined as he shoved his breeches down, then bent his knees, which frustrated him more when it made his breeches impossible to remove. Conall had his hands on him but just stared down at Fox, enthralled. Fox absolutely could not wait no matter what he’d teased. He’d never felt so empty.

“I’ve been aching to feel your teeth,” Fox confessed boldly, more than a little shaken to realize he had been. “What must I do to prove it?” he demanded rather than dwell on any revelations, and shifted back to give himself room to roll over onto his stomach. He raised himself up onto his elbows and knees immediately, his tail in the air. His breeches were heavy and sticky with wet, his body more than ready to be bred.

He was glad Conall couldn’t see his face to remark on his blushes, but perhaps it was worse that he couldn’t. Conall, presented with Fox offering himself, did not seize Fox and fuck into him as Fox wanted. He took hold of Fox with large, sure hands and tugged Fox’s breeches down to his knees, then slid those hands up Fox’s slick thighs and rumbled something under his breath. He kneaded Fox’s plump ass and pushed Fox’s legs farther apart to leave Fox spread for him. Still not satisfied, he took his time looking his fill, leaving Fox to burn hotter and hotter. When he did finally move, it was to enter Fox with his fingers.

Fox dropped his head to whine.

Conall murmured, “Pink everywhere,” but leaned down before Fox could snap at him and licked around where his two fingers were holding Fox open.

Fox curled his toes and let his protest stay a garbled whimper. But the pressure from Conall’s fingers did not equal his cock and did not come close to his knot. Fox needed that stretching him and keeping him pinned. Not even Conall’s greedy tongue on his inner thighs could satisfy him now although he pushed up into Conall’s hands for more.

“Your fingers cannot put any young in me,” Fox hissed, irritable at the discovery that he was still trapped by his clothes and couldn’t open his legs any wider. He complaint became a yelp as his hole was suddenly empty of even fingers, then a startled cry as his breeches were stripped from him and he was flipped onto his back. Seconds after that, the cry was a giddy laugh for Conall finally moving over him, as naked as Fox was. Fox reached for the forming knot at the base of Conall’s cock and squeezed, smiling mean and pleased when Conall groaned. “Such a pretty, fat knot,” Fox cooed at him. The knot was lovely, darkly flushed in the bright light. “Going to fill me up and keep me locked tight on it?”

Conall pushed Fox’s hands to the bed within seconds, then kissed him, smiling a mean smile of his own when he pulled away and Fox chased after his mouth. “Like this,” he said sweetly, “so I can see your face when my seed takes.”

Nothing would take, and yet Fox’s mouth fell open as he panted and tried not to writhe. It was not just Conall’s knotting him, although he wanted that desperately. It was the teasing words that nonetheless meant Conall wanted to keep Fox near, to keep him always, or at least for the time it would take to raise imaginary young. Everyone would know Conall valued Fox and desired him, and envy Fox for the mountain in his bed.

Fox strained upward until Conall took his mouth in another kiss. “Yes,” he whispered when they separated, when he could breathe. “Conall.” Fox soared as he begged. “Conall, please. Now that I know, I can’t wait.”

“Know what?” Conall pressed, turning his head to place a distracted kiss on the tip of Fox’s tail, not seeming to care that the rest of Fox’s tail was draped over his shoulders. “What do you know now? Tell me. Fuck, you’re always so wet for me but never like this.” He slipped his fingers back into Fox just to pull them out and drag them through the resulting gush of slick. He stroked himself with his gleaming hand and Fox distantly had to agree that daylight was a gift to be appreciated. “Fox.” Conall was breathless but stern. “What do you know?”

Fox brought his legs up, squirming when Conall pushed them to his chest and held them there to look over Fox again, and the hole pink and shining wet and empty. Fox had taken a fortune from Conall today and yet only felt greedy now, gaping and hungry for Conall’s spend and heavy knot. And Conall liked him that way, the fire in his eyes greater than even Domvoda’s.

“You’re the dragon,” Fox informed him with a snap of his teeth and then a moan, his head back, when Conall finally pushed his cock inside of him. Conall was slow, letting Fox feel every inch before he answered.

“The dragon?” he demanded, strained.

“Or I am,” Fox panted distractedly. “I know why it wanted you. Conall, please.” He bore down once Conall’s knot was in him, unable to do much more than that with how Conall had him. He was hard-soft but he didn’t care if his cock spent. He wanted to finish from the drag of Conall’s cock and the pressure of his knot, and then be held there, filled and filled again with Conall’s strength and teeth keeping him still.

“Why did it want me?” Conall groaned, moving at long last. Fox was at his mercy, with no choice but to take him, but he was an insatiable receptive and whined his gratitude with each thrust.

“To keep you.” Fox’s focus was almost entirely on the thick, swollen knot tugging on the rim, the knot thicker and heavier each time. “Going to keep you,” he murmured feverishly, clenching although Conall wasn’t ready. “Keep you in me where you belong.” So close, Fox was so close to having him. He whined again, needier, vaguely aware of Conall trying to soothe him, pressing deeper and putting his lips to Fox’s brow as if Fox wanted calming kisses.

Fox turned his head, baring his neck and the undoubtedly rosy skin where his neck met his shoulder.

“You can keep me,” Conall told him, grinding down to make Fox moan. His knot was big, near to tying him to Fox. Fox shook and accepted distracted, almost worried kisses, and the flood of his wet fucked back into him. Everything was slick and hot and then suddenly tight, so wonderfully tight that Fox jerked and spent, moaning in shocked pleasure as his body squeezed Conall’s knot and he immediately came again.

Conall was cursing and groaning, heavy over him, movements ragged. Fox didn’t care. He tightened his fingers in Conall’s hair, then ran them down Conall’s back. Conall was spending even though his knot was still growing. Fox snarled to show his displeasure at the wasted seed, but it was a mere second, and then Conall swore and forced his knot inside and kept it there, fat and gorgeous. He pressed down into Fox with nowhere left to go, his hands bruising as he held Fox on the knot making Fox wild.

“Take it,” he ordered, breath hot and thrilling before he sank his teeth into Fox, biting not to break skin but to remind Fox he was bred and mated, that he could move only when they were done.

Fox took it, took of all it, moaning without end as he clenched and drew pained groans and more seed from Conall. Spit pooled beneath Conall’s mouth, his teeth dug into Fox’s tender flesh, his knot sealed Fox tight, his weight was heavy and good. Fox would not give him up. He flushed hotter and continued working Conall’s cock even when Conall’s breath came faster and his grip grew harder. Fox came again, or dreamed he did, drifting in pleasure and finally losing his hold on Conall’s hair.

When Conall’s teeth left him, some awareness returned. Fox’s hips ached. He was unbelievably wet with slick and sweat and spit. Conall was pressing reverent kisses to Fox’s neck and shoulder, and Fox’s legs were spread wide to accommodate a mountain, no longer pressed to his chest. Conall’s muscles flexed beneath Fox’s palms every time Conall grunted, because Fox was still clenching around Conall’s knot although Conall had to be spent for now.

Fox realized he wanted to pull Conall up to him as he was already doing it but didn’t stop himself. He slid their mouths together in a tired attempt at a kiss, which Conall corrected by taking over.

He was soothing Fox again. “Shh,” Conall murmured against Fox’s mouth, silencing whatever silly thing Fox could not seem to voice, since Fox did not seem to be able to speak properly. Conall kissed Fox again, something that continued, gentle and pretty, until Conall tried to move.

Fox wrapped his arms and legs around him until Conall settled back down where he belonged.

“I thought you’d be uncomfortable,” Conall offered, apologies in his tone.

Fox was uncomfortable, now that he thought about it. Nonetheless, he didn’t move. He licked his lips and swallowed several times and thought hard so he could speak somewhat clearly. “Hold me down. Until it takes.” That wasn’t quite what he’d wanted to say, so he frowned and tried again. “Until I’m mated.” That was a little better although he jolted several seconds after it was out.

“You have more knots to take if you want to be convinced I’ve bred you.” Conall was so satisfied that for once Fox imagined him as the one who should have been purring. “Which won’t be a problem for me. I’m dreaming of you large with my young.”

Large indeed, with Conall’s children. The thought was enough to set Fox’s heart to pounding with mild panic even though Conall was teasing him.

Conall proved that by leaning down to murmur into Fox’s ear, “Imagine me thick with yours and you’ll know how I feel.”

A whiny, hungry noise slipped out of Fox at the fantasy of Conall as his fertile. Everyone who met them, the entire court, would know Fox had knotted Conall and stuffed him full. Fox would bite Conall’s neck for all to see and Conall would shamelessly show off the marks and his fat belly. Fox squirmed, stilling when Conall hissed in pained pleasure.

“I see your point,” Fox admitted weakly.

Conall dropped a kiss to Fox’s bruised, bitten shoulder, then raised his head. His gaze was a familiar warmth; it shouldn’t have made Fox shiver and tremble deep in his chest. The shaking was not caused by fear, Fox realized and felt slow to the knowledge, as if he should have known that at once.

He opened his mouth only to shut it, not certain what to say, then momentarily forgetting himself entirely when Conall reached between them to stroke Fox’s swelling cock.

“You’re hard-soft,” Conall observed, not unhappily, although with some disbelief. “You spent several times. I’m still in you. Yet you’re already hard-soft.”

Fox opened his mouth again. “It feels right to have you there. Here,” he added quickly as though that would make what he’d said less odd and terrifying. “In me—with me.” That was slightly better. “It’s right that you’re with me. I don’t want to let you go.”

Barely a second after that, Fox whispered, “Oh,” and closed his eyes. “I was passion-struck for you too,” he realized aloud, voice small. “And now you give me this. You won’t take this from me? I get you? I get a place?”

“You get me.” Conall ran his knuckles softly down Fox’s cheek until Fox opened his eyes. “And a home, for as long as you want it. Although it will be awkward meeting my family if you don’t release me at some point.”

Fox stared at him with faint but rising alarm. “Your family….”

“You and I are passion-struck,” Conall reminded him. “I wouldn’t give you up even if they disapproved. But they won’t. Which makes me ‘the dragon,’ apparently. A remark you might explain to me whenever you feel ready.” He raised both eyebrows in question.

Fox ignored that, not even sure what Conall was talking about. His embarrassment was more of his concern at the moment. It would grow worse over time, he was certain of it. He had been passion-struck and hadn’t even known.

He focused on Conall’s expectant expression, enough sense returning to him to make him suspicious. “You don’t seem surprised that I was struck for you.” Fox narrowed his eyes, only to be distracted by more petting.

“You told me you were last night, or so it sounded to my desperate heart. Then you said it again today in front of the king.” Conall’s smirk for that was indecent, although brief. He grew serious again when Fox tried to avoid his eye. “But I was content to try to win your affection, Fox. So, although that was pleasing to hear, I was already set on this course.”

“Foxlike,” Fox complained quietly, trying not to think about his mortifying ignorance.

Conall stroked Fox’s cheekbone, then his mouth. “I used to take a sad sort of hope in that.” He watched Fox intently as he found Fox’s curls and brushed the soft ends across Fox’s parted lips. “I dreamed that we were meant to be, because of my name and yours. Foolish, although now I wonder again. My home....” His gaze sharpened. “My home that is now yours if you want it, is named for my family. Vulpedas in the ancient language, but to those who live near us it’s always been called simply Fox Hall.” He kissed Fox’s slack, shocked mouth. “Perhaps it’s been waiting for you.”

“Conall.” Fox swallowed, tried to think, but the name was all he could manage. “Conall.”

“A good thought,” Conall went on roughly, pushing forward and pressing down to light Fox up from inside. “Fox of Fox Hall.”

Fox pulled Conall to him with all his strength, rocking up to get Conall hard while Conall was still deep in him.

To keep him.

That was how a mating worked, Fox told himself distractedly, leaning up to seek another kiss. This was how it should be.