Chapter Six

Food and water restored Fox’s strength, which didn’t help with his original problem as it should have. Though he took his time walking back to the hall, even lingering to greet several of the knights chatting around the fire, his mind would not calm and he could not keep still. Several of the knights looked more like they were flirting than casually talking, something Fox should have noticed before and could only blame his exhaustion and worry for why he hadn’t. It was even the sort of flirtation he was familiar with; friendly and light, intended to win someone’s affections for an hour or two, perhaps the night.

Which made sense. Many of these knights did not live in Saravar or even near the capital. They likely saw one another at tournaments, maybe even only at this tournament, once every year. Some of their choices regarding bedpartners made sense in that respect.

He went slowly up the stairs to his room but could not rest there either, though he tried. He selected an outfit for the next day and went through his routine while seated on his bed to rest his sore feet. Shoes off, he paced back and forth across the small space and listened as Kaladas slowly went quiet. Whatever went on behind closed doors, he fortunately could not hear. He wasn’t sure what it would do to him if his ears caught even one stray moan.

He wasn’t oblivious to the reason for his agitation. Far from it. Conall had told him of ways to distract himself and Fox’s needy body had fixated on exactly one of those solutions.

A few knots. In another context, that remark would have made Fox lean closer to someone in the back corner of a tavern and slide a hand under the table to do his best to coax a knot into existence even with a stranger.

A few knots to get you sweet. That was something else entirely, Conall’s voice easy and slow as though his comment wouldn’t leave Fox burning for hours. As though Fox, who had not been fucked for months, much less knotted, wouldn’t keep feeling himself wet up for it.

A part of him was certain that Conall had suggested it for more reasons than Fox’s emotional well-being. Conall had all but said he didn’t look to the younger knights for such things, and unless he and one of his friends were very discreet, he wasn’t looking to them this year either. Considering the pressure he must feel as the King’s Tournament drew near, the fact that Conall had bothered with Fox’s problems was incredible. He had his own to deal with and apparently had to deal with them alone.

Fox should help him with that, repay some of his kindness. Not that Fox’s motives were about kindness. Though he thought it would be fairly kind to offer himself as a hole for Conall’s cock; Conall might have some nerves to fuck out too, after all.

He might already be doing that. Despite appearances, there could be someone ready and willing in Conall’s bed at that very moment, and if not, Conall must want to spend his nights alone. He also had a good reason for not getting involved with Fox—the same reason why Fox should not be thinking of him.

Yet Fox was, and all his walking and fretting did not help.

“To get you sweet,” Fox said out loud to himself, trying to make it scornful but not certain that it was. The rasp from earlier had not left his voice. His blush was visible in the mirror as he undid the work of his nightly routine and brushed out his hair.

The stone floor chilled and soothed his bare feet and made his steps quiet. He did not question why quiet should concern him until he was in front of Conall’s door in his nightshirt with his curls falling over his shoulders.

No one was around. The firelight was distant and dim, the fire left to smolder and die as nearly everyone went to bed. That was good. Fox wasn’t completely sure that his nightshirt was hiding much. His thoughts had left him wet and swelled his slight cock.

He would ask, he decided. Conall could always say no.

The sound of his knock on the door him wince, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He glanced around several times as he waited, wondering if Conall had company, if he was too deep in sleep to hear, if he somehow knew Fox was on the other side of his door ready to humiliate himself and was wisely not answering. Then the door swung inward and Conall squinted at Fox from the other side of the threshold. Conall’s room was lit by the moonlight coming through the window, but he appeared to be alone. He was also undressed for bed, save for a val wrapped around his waist which he had clearly thrown on before opening the door.

His chest hair was almost directly in Fox’s face. Fox was half a second away from reaching for it before he recovered at least part of his senses. It helped that Conall frowned before whispering urgently, “Fox? What is it? What’s wrong?”

A creaking door somewhere not very far away made Fox jump, then whisper back, “Nothing. That is, nothing important, but I wondered…” His tail was in his hands. He must look like an anxious child after a bad dream. He tried again. “May I come in for a moment? I’d rather not talk out here.”

Conall stepped away from the door, giving Fox leave to enter while Conall lit the candle on the small stand by his bed. Fox raised his head the moment the closed door was at his back and then released a long, admiring sigh.

He had expected the scars and barely paid them any mind, more focused on shining skin and the fascinating thatch of hair, which began beneath Conall’s crookedly healed collarbone and spread outward before narrowing back to a line that went down to the wrap and presumably continued from there.

Fox dragged his gaze back up too slowly but, well, desire was why he had knocked on Conall’s door. He looked away briefly only to be polite. Their rooms were about the same size, although Conall had even fewer belongings than Fox: a trunk, some bags, a saddle, bits of armor, and a sheathed sword. A small table stood to one side of the door, there for a hair comb and bottles of what were probably soaps and oils. The rest of Conall’s things must have been back in the capital since he wouldn’t need to pack like Fox did.

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” Fox murmured before returning his gaze to Conall.

Conall, his attention somewhere down near the hem of Fox’s nightshirt, abruptly looked up. “Yes?” he agreed, but was clearly a step or two behind.

“But,” Fox went on, forcing his hands to release his tail while wishing for the confidence of his younger self when making eyes at a stranger across a room. “If you wouldn’t mind,” of course, this was not a stranger and that was very likely why Fox’s heart raced and his words stumbled, “I have been thinking of your second suggestion… about relieving tension,” he added in case Conall had forgotten or not fully woken up yet. “I wondered if you’d be interested in helping me.”

“Helping you,” Conall echoed. Fox hoped it was just that he was still half-asleep.

“By fucking the nerves out of me, as the knights do.” Fox raised his chin. “Unless you’re unwilling, of course. I’d understand.”

He’d never get a wink of sleep again, not with desire for Conall a fire in his blood, but he’d understand.

The mountain, who really did have the softly clouded expression of someone convinced he was dreaming, blinked several times.

“You’re beautiful. You know that.” Conall had a bit of a rasp in his voice too.

“Tastes differ.” Fox even managed a shrug as he said it despite the audible thwap of his tail against the door behind him. “You don’t have to worry about the risk of me bearing. That’s taken care of.” He’d never simply asked someone to bed him before. There had always been teasing or flirting, or someone assuming Fox would say yes. Fox was obviously receptive and such assumptions were often made. He’d never had to ask. This must be something of what it was like from the other side of things. He couldn’t say he liked it.

Another thwap of his tail revealed more of his nerves. “Well?” he prompted quickly, ready to run.

“Did you think I would say no?” Conall demanded, then took a steadying breath. “Fox. Are you sure?”

Fox fell against the door in wobbly-legged relief and let his tail do what it would. He thought he was smiling, something wide and ridiculous. “Am I sure? If Domvoda learns of it, I don’t think he’ll be kind. You’ll need his favor if you want to win the largest purse.”

Conall studied Fox for several increasingly warm seconds, then stepped forward, stopping just shy of touching him. “Domvoda shouldn’t mock your knightly streak. It’s charming.” He was so close Fox had to lift his chin even higher. Conall smiled down at him and dismissed the king with shocking ease. “But he’s currently not a concern of mine.”

They were both breathing hard.

“Why would you ever imagine I’d say no?” Conall put one hand on the door above Fox’s head, then the other at Fox’s side. His gaze had not lost any of its usual warmth, which Fox realized belatedly was pleasure to look at Fox, to talk to him. That warmth was desire.

And Fox was supposed to be able to hold a conversation now? “I was worried the reasons to say no would outweigh the reasons to say yes.” Proud of himself for getting that out, he rewarded himself by sneaking his tail around Conall’s waist. It made his nightshirt ride up, bunching around his cock and immediately distracting Conall.

Conall lowered his hands to Fox’s waist, each one hot through Fox’s nightshirt. “Fetching,” he said, of the shirt or of Fox, then curled his fingers, dragging the shirt up a few more inches. “Did you know your clothing is damp?”

Fox was breathless and shivering. “I said I’d been thinking of it.”

Conall met Fox’s eyes, startled. “You’ve wet up already?”

“Conall,” Fox whined shakily, halfway to undone by the quiet hunger in the question, “it’s been a long time.”

“Fox.” It was Conall’s soft voice again, followed by callused hands reaching around Fox’s back to pull Fox close. Fox got a face full of chest hair. It tickled, making him briefly wrinkle his nose before the muscle beneath the hair drew more of his attention. Conall sighed. “I wasn’t….”

Whatever Conall wasn’t was forgotten when Fox nuzzled then gently bit a swell of muscle. “I’d really like you to fuck me,” Fox explained himself. “Soon,” he added hopefully. He used his hands alongside his mouth, distractedly finding hair, and more scarring, and all the hot, smooth skin he could ask for. He was a little shaky with so much of Conall available to him, a minor embarrassment, but he doubted Conall noticed.

Conall’s hands fell to Fox’s ass, one twisting the nightshirt out of the way so the other could slide over skin damp with perspiration to find the slippery, faintly viscous slick that had been dripping from Fox for some time now. Conall stifled a sound, surprise possibly, or more hunger, and then let the shirt fall so he could grasp Fox’s ass with both hands to spread him and test with his fingertips.

Fox rose up onto his toes without thinking, trying to get those fingers inside. He was desperate enough that his body was already open and there was no threat here to make him tense, only Conall’s lovely skin and strange but also lovely chest hair, and the way he pulled in a breath when he found Fox pliant and ready.

Conall’s words rumbled through him before he spoke.

“I should settle you first,” Conall said, losing Fox entirely until Fox realized that he was whining, the sound slightly muffled against Conall’s chest. Fox protested, or tried to, although he didn’t know what Conall meant by ‘settle’ until Conall moved one hand to Fox’s stiffening prick. His grip was good and tight, slick with some of Fox’s wet, but before Fox had a chance to complain that he’d asked for a fucking, Conall reminded Fox he hadn’t forgotten anything by slipping two fingers into Fox’s hole. Fox’s complaints died in his throat.

“Loose and dripping,” Conall murmured approvingly, leaving Fox to squirm with what he wished was embarrassment. “So ready, aren’t you? I never would have imagined. All that mess for me, these sounds for me. Beautiful.”

Fox had no idea what Conall thought he was doing, speaking that way. Fox knew he was beautiful and didn’t need to be told sweet nothings to get him wet. He already was. As soon as he no longer felt like he was gently burning to death from Conall’s praise, he was going to say something.

“Is that a blush?” Conall wondered, watching color spread across Fox’s cheeks. “Are those freckles?” he added, marveling, and hummed in satisfaction when his fingers slipped another inch deeper. His lips graced one of Fox’s ears before he pushed Fox back against the door, against his hand and the slow inward press that was nearly as maddening as his soft words.

Fox was already on his toes and whimpered again.

“I’m not going to beg,” he protested unsteadily. Conall’s fingers were big. Fox could take them, but thinking of also taking Conall’s cock made him dizzy.

“No, you’re going to come,” Conall returned, calmly brutal, and gave Fox’s prick a squeeze. “You’re going to spill on my hand and gush slick down my wrist, aren’t you?” He kissed Fox’s ear after Fox garbled some sort of noise that was not the biting retort he’d intended. “Darker pink now, all over your face and that neck I’ve…” Conall stopped, then squeezed Fox’s cock again, drawing a thicker droplet of slick from the tip. He smeared it onto his thumb then took a second to bring it to his mouth. Fox was mesmerized by the drag of Conall’s lips, the way he swallowed and looked into Fox’s eyes before again saying, “You’re beautiful.”

If Fox weren’t so desperate, those words wouldn’t have had him so hot. He should say something about that too. He had a second to suck in a breath before Conall leaned down to speak against his mouth. “Lovely Fox,” he whispered, breathy and warm, his lips close, “hard-soft and wet for me, ready to take my cock. Am I dreaming?”

Fox didn’t mean to tilt his face up, but it happened, their mouths brushing in a slow kiss before Conall deepened it. Fox opened for him, whining faintly when two fingers became three but soon soothed by another kiss.

Conall let Fox try to push down on his fingers and sighed when Fox’s body clenched around them as though Fox would be able to milk seed from them. Instead of teasing Fox for his desperation, for how he shuddered and whined, he kept Fox pinned to the door and kissed him to leave him mindless. Then he began to fuck Fox slowly, getting Fox used to the girth and pressure of his fingers, as if that wouldn’t make Fox’s body hungrier. He even paused, fingers inside Fox to the knuckle, and left Fox breathing fast while he contemplated giving Fox his fist. “You could come on my knuckles, couldn’t you? Be satisfied by a play-knot?”

With his other hand, he squeezed the base of Fox’s cock where Fox’s knot would form the rare times it did, as if to remind Fox of how it would feel to work a fat knot inside him, and Fox thought faintly of that glimpse of Conall in the sparring ring and how he should have known Conall would be like this.

Fox was achingly hard-soft, so wet it trickled down to his knees and probably all over Conall’s hand. He was shaking more and more obviously and Conall hadn’t even fucked him with more than his fingers and he had stopped moving those. Fox would take the fist. He might take anything. He was vaguely aware he was clutching Conall’s chest, that his fingernails might be leaving marks, but that was not his concern. He was not going to beg, but, “Don’t tease me,” he panted, then opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized they were closed.

Conall kissed him, parting Fox’s lips easily only to leave him wanting a moment later. His gaze was so warm Fox couldn’t bear it.

“Conall.” It wasn’t begging. It wasn’t.

“Beautiful,” Conall answered, and left Fox to claw at his shoulders while he stroked Fox’s cock. Fox jerked back against the door, his gasp almost painful as he squeezed and writhed on Conall’s fingers and shot seed over Conall’s hand and stomach. Conall kissed Fox through that too, swallowing Fox’s groans before softening the kiss to gentle licks and nips as Fox caught his breath.

Fox’s nightshirt was tugged away, up and off his body. Fox shivered closer to Conall and stayed there, putting his hands to Conall’s chest and pulling at springy, silky chest chair when Conall eased his fingers out of him. It left behind an ache. Fox groused wordlessly about it until his chin was tipped up and he was kissed again.

Conall assumed nothing of Fox but that he was eager for kisses. Fox frowned and welcomed him with lips and tongue, deciding he would remark on Conall’s assumptions later. Conall’s lips were as pillowy as they had always looked. Fox brushed them with his own until they returned to kiss him again.

“Come along, Fox,” Conall urged after a while, his tone low and soothing. He rubbed circles into Fox’s lower back with a slippery hand. “To the bed, where you belong.”

Fox grumbled louder for that. “…Have uses elsewhere too,” he managed. His tail was tight around Conall’s side. His hands were glued to Conall’s skin.

“Of course you do,” Conall answered when Fox lifted his head to blink at him. “But in my dreams, you stay in my bed.”

“This is not a dream,” Fox informed him sternly despite his wobbly legs. “If it were, you’d have stuffed me by now. Against the door, even.” In dreams that was never uncomfortable.

“You want me to knot you against the door?” Conall prodded, no longer leading Fox toward his bed and instead stroking Fox’s ears and then his hot cheeks.

Fox stared at him for a stunned, heady moment, then rasped, “You’re going to knot me?”

Conall’s eyebrows rose. He reached down, and—oh, his hand was gleaming with slick or seed, the sight distracting Fox until Conall undid the button holding his wrap closed and let the cloth fall to the floor.

Fox was against Conall again in seconds, both of his hands tracing the hot length of Conall’s cock to grasp the thickening flesh at the base. A knot, already forming. For Fox.

Conall made a noise when Fox gripped the sensitive skin but didn’t stop him. “Still want it against the door?”

He was sharp in a different way than Fox was, meaner, Fox suspected, and felt his empty body clench around nothing before more slick tickled his thighs.

He released Conall’s cock only so he could stumble to the bed, where he climbed over rumpled sheets to hold himself on his elbows and offer his gleaming thighs and hole without another word. He lifted his tail elegantly, curling the end toward Conall and then himself: Invitation.

“Fox.” The warmth was in how Conall said his name too. His hands were firebrands on Fox’s thighs.

Fox caught his breath and then he was on his back, further up on the bed, and Conall was above him.

“You thought I’d say no?” Conall demanded, rough, pushing Fox’s legs apart with his sheer mass. He looked from Fox’s ready hole to Fox’s stunned gaze. “Say the word and I’ll hold you down and mate you now. You thought it would be no?” He went on while Fox was gasping at the suggestion of being bitten and held still, his body cared for, filled and filled again as he was mated for hours—a fantasy Fox hadn’t known he’d had. Conall stroked the soft skin of Fox’s inner thighs, sweeping slick onto his thumbs and then smearing that onto his cock while Fox stared and stared and watched that knot get fatter. If it got much larger, Conall would have to force it in, a thought to make Fox shiver with unexpected need.

Conall saw him staring and rubbed more of Fox’s slick on his knot. He smiled when a hungry sound left Fox’s throat. Mean, Fox decided, until Conall added, “I’m aching, lovely Fox. Let me have you.”

Fox shifted against the sheets, his head falling back, his eyes steady on Conall. He brought his knees up.

Conall took hold of Fox’s hips and entered him slowly, first watching the greedy clutch of Fox’s hole around his cock and then Fox’s face while Fox moaned his gratitude. He fucked Fox slowly as well, letting Fox feel the weight and pressure of the knot as it filled.

It had been so long that Fox couldn’t wait. He whined, “Conall,” again and again, and Conall moved over him, pushing Fox’s legs up higher to make his thrusts deeper. Fox’s hands found Conall’s skin, shining and pretty, and scratched pleasing marks into it across Conall’s shoulders and back. Fox’s cock was hard but coming that way was nothing to the intensity of his body milking a knot. Some didn’t care for the sensation and some didn’t mind it, but those like Fox loved it; his body sparking and burning from the inside out, his mind soaring and full of light. Being full meant a different, more intense pleasure, better than merely coming. Fox had gone without it for so long.

“I know, shh. It’s all right. You can have it.” Conall panted into Fox’s ear and against his neck, responding to the weak noises spilling from Fox’s mouth. He gave Fox soft and pretty kisses while slick gushed between them and Fox was held tight. The knot grew larger, hot and swollen, teasing Fox on every thrust, then catching inside him, too big to slip out. It was finally his and Fox dug his nails hard into Conall to keep him still and turned his head, wishing nothing, everything. To take Conall and every drop of his seed to keep inside him. For Conall to bite to keep him still in turn, like this was a mating and this fury of feelings and bliss was Fox’s to have and hold.

Conall shuddered for Fox working his knot and clawing at him when the pleasure became overwhelming. He groaned against Fox’s neck, then held Fox’s hips and bore down to ensure he was buried deep as he spilled. His teeth dragged across Fox’s skin before he groaned again as if in pain and quickly turned his head. His seed was exquisite, pouring into Fox in steady pulses, his knot lighting up Fox’s nerves until all of Fox was bright with pleasure. Conall said his name more than once, “Fox,” soft and pleased as he kissed Fox’s throat like butterflies teasing flower petals.

When Fox’s heart slowed and his body was satisfied enough to allow him to think a little, he blinked his eyes open. Conall observed him with a faintly worried expression that had Fox smiling foolishly before he could help himself. He ought to say something. Something clever. He’d meant to say something before, almost certainly.

His hands were pressing against Conall’s back like a feeding kitten’s paws. His tail remained wrapped around Conall’s waist, and he continued to accept kisses, to feel them down his unbitten neck and on his shoulder and then on his lips again. He kissed back and whined softly one more time, although he didn’t know why.

“You can have it, Fox. Don’t worry,” Conall whispered, answering Fox’s dreamily confused frown with a gently chiding look and another kiss. “The next one on your hands and knees like you wanted. No need to worry that you’ll go hungry. You can take all you need, pretty thing.”

“Next one?” Fox croaked, once-filled already and his blood singing with how good it felt. He imagined himself face down on Conall’s bed, hot inside with more of Conall’s seed and stuffed tight with a knot to keep it there, and tightened around Conall’s cock involuntarily. He gasped, high and strained.

Conall dropped his head to breathe harshly. “Next one.” It was almost vicious. “After that, it’s my choice again.”

Beneath Fox’s palms, Conall’s muscles shivered. He had strength and stamina enough to do exactly what he promised. All of it, and whatever Fox might want too.

“Conall,” Fox murmured, bringing one hand up to toy with Conall’s hair.

Conall raised his head. “Hmm?” He made no move to disentangle himself although if he’d wanted to, Fox would have released him. Fox should release him, as a matter of fact, stop petting him, unfurl his tail, and ease his legs down.

Conall was flushed and Fox had disturbed his hair. His gaze was as it always was, though he should have been sated. A bubble rose within Fox’s chest, a giddy laugh he had to fight.

“I said against the door,” he reminded Conall tartly because that look compelled him to say something. “On my toes.” That was too breathy to be tart, but he tried. Conall’s parted lips were so inviting. Fox forced himself to look into Conall’s eyes instead. “Entirely at your mercy.”

“You trust yourself to my mercy?” Conall moved his hips, sending syrupy lightning through Fox’s body. Fox would have arched from the bed but Conall’s weight and his own hair trapped beneath his shoulders kept him down.

“Fuck,” Fox exclaimed when he could speak again, his cock throbbing. “Yes. I am slick again just thinking of it. Just that and I’ll be satisfied, I swear.”

Conall appeared to consider it, then said, watching Fox intently, “With our difference in height, if you want my knot against the door, I’ll have to pick you up, have you that way.” The spasm of pleasure that went through Fox’s body made Conall drop his head to groan again. “If you leave me anything,” he added weakly.

Fox ran his hands through Conall’s hair and down his neck to the marks Fox had left on his back. He traced them while Conall panted and filled him, and closed his eyes to bask in warmth.

“We are doing this right or not at all,” Conall growled at Fox breathlessly, teeth by his ear, pushing his cock into Fox but then slowing and pulling back whenever his knot began to swell.

Fox, flat on his stomach, legs spread, tail useless, his hole and his cock dripping steady messes beneath him, asked in a low, strained voice. “Do what?” This felt right to him, except for how Conall was resisting knotting him, tormenting him with his cock and the promise of a third knot.

The table by the door was cleared of Conall’s things. They were scattered across the floor from how Conall had swept the table so he could set Fox there while he’d still been buried deep in Fox after fucking him against the door. Lifting him, as he’d predicted, and therefore not letting Fox do much more than moan as he was filled so fucking much that he’d remembered Conall’s name before his own, his tail greedily claiming the mountain for him.

Two knots. Fox was flying, his thoughts a mess, skin flushed with kisses and blushes and probably bruises. He ought to sleep. They ought to sleep. He’d tried saying so once, was sure he had. And Conall had grunted and said, “When we’re done,” and then they’d been kissing again, Fox pulling Conall down to get at his soft, soft mouth.

Two knots, and now a third, if Conall would get on with it. Or continue as he was. Both outcomes were good, Fox decided, giggling into the bed before he could control himself. He would have worried about that, but Conall didn’t seem to mind Fox’s ridiculousness.

“Or maybe I have done it.” Conall put his mouth to the top of Fox’s spine, slowing his thrusts again with a pained groan that did not muffle the satisfyingly wet sounds of Conall methodically fucking his own seed back into Fox.

Fox considered demanding to know what Conall was talking about. But then he wriggled his hips instead, drawing another grunt from Conall before Conall buried himself to the hilt in the sticky, greedy clutch of Fox’s hole and pushed down to keep Fox from moving again.

“To fuck you sweet,” Conall finally explained. “But never mind. Four might do it.”

“Four?” Fox echoed feverishly, tail jolting outward like an arrow with his shock. Then he was rocking his hips against the mattress, teasing his sore cock and trying his best to shift the mountain on top of him. “Conall….” It wasn’t begging if he used a needy, honeyed voice that seemed to nearly always make Conall kiss him. “Do you know what your knot feels like?” Fox didn’t wait for an answer to his teasing question, he just kept moving. “I want to be filled again. I want to come on it. It’s so good, Conall. Your seed in me is so good.”

“Clever.” Conall grunted again, sounding displeased, but then retaliating twice over by teasing the rim of Fox’s hole where it stretched around him and whispering, “Beautiful,” as if he had noticed how the word drove Fox from his senses.

When Fox was finally allowed Conall’s knot, when the candle was halfway down and Fox was on his knees and shaking while Conall pressed himself to his back and stuffed him hard, Conall put his palm over Fox’s lower belly and pushed in, making his knot inescapable.

Fox’s wails as he came were likely heard across the hall.

Then, eventually, even though he was breathing heavily and surely must need rest, Conall arranged Fox’s worn, comfortably exhausted body on his bed and bent Fox’s knees again.

“Four?” he asked, fire in his eyes.

Conall had won nearly every tournament for years. He had scaled a dragon with his bare hands and fallen from the sky with it. Fox should not have been surprised.

But Fox had risen from farmer’s child to court musician; he had no intention of giving in. Or in missing out on one more vigorous stuffing.

He beckoned Conall to him with hands and mouth and tail and found himself smiling as he was kissed again.

When Fox woke after that, Conall’s mass close at his back, the candle ready to gutter, he rose to leave only to fall backward onto his ass on the bed, rousing Conall.

“I’ll be off soon,” Fox assured him, awake enough to worry if that was true, since his legs were weak and annoyingly unsteady. “Go to sleep. You need the rest.”

“I certainly do,” Conall murmured against Fox’s lower back, smug or acknowledging the truth of what he would face in the coming day. Fox’s day would likely not be much better. Fox didn’t want to think of it. He wanted to return to sleep as soon as possible. “Sleep,” Conall said a moment later, sounding close to nodding off again.

“I plan to.” Fox slid slowly to his knees, feeling around the floor for his nightshirt. The bed creaked behind him, the sole indication that Conall had risen. He appeared in front of Fox mere seconds later, yet somehow wearing a long shirt and holding out another one.

“Do you move like lightning?” Fox asked seriously.

Conall snorted. “I think you fell asleep sitting up. Come here.” He said ‘come here’ but he bent down and hefted Fox to his feet without waiting for Fox to try. The spare shirt was dropped over Fox’s head and then tugged down around him. Fox rather clumsily managed to get his arms into the right places, and then stood there, staring up as Conall got his hair free for him. “If you insist upon leaving, I will have to help you.”

“Oh,” Fox said uncertainly. The dark and Conall’s hands in his hair confused him. He had a sudden memory of being woken from an exhausted sleep so that Conall, who had been half-dressed, could clean him with shockingly cold water, and then scooting against Conall when Conall had curled up behind him because it had helped Fox stop shivering. But he might have dreamed it. “My nightshirt?”

“Will need to be laundered,” Conall informed him, amused at something.

Fox pulled his clingy tail away from Conall’s torso. “Insist?” Conall had said that, but Fox knew better. He gave Conall a poke. “This time, I will show myself out.”

Conall’s amusement vanished. “Come along then, Fox,” he said, quiet now, before slipping an arm around Fox’s waist and walking him toward the door.

The hall was very dark, hardly any light coming in through whichever curtains had been left open, the fire completely out.

“He’s a fool, you know,” Conall said, still quiet, as he opened the door to Fox’s room for Fox, who didn’t move forward. “He doesn’t even know what you are.”

Fox tipped his head back to study Conall with sleepy bemusement. “What am I?”

Conall opened, then shut, his mouth. He opened it again a second later to say, “In need of rest.”

“Ha.” Fox stepped into the black of his room before turning back to Conall. “That’s you. I didn’t… that is… I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” That had the sound of a crude joke, so he shook his head. “You should sleep, is what I mean. You have so much to do. They said…. You have all this pressure on you. I meant… I meant to be fucked but I also wanted you to,” he gestured heavily, “you know. Feel good. Not tired.” Sense seemed to keep slipping away from him.

Conall regarded Fox silently, his soft mouth looking even softer. Then he said, low, “The answer is four.”

Fox frowned. “Four?” Nobody should be expected to be clever at this time of night, regardless of what they’d been doing previously.

Conall leaned in, putting his incredible mouth to use after Fox fell forward to meet his kiss and sigh. When Conall pulled back, Fox couldn’t have said how much time later, couldn’t even have tried to guess, he urged Fox backward, further into the room. He only reached for the door handle when Fox bumped into the bed and plopped down to sit and stare blankly at him.

Conall smiled. “Rest,” he ordered gently, and shut the door without making a sound.