Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

Tristan kept Feather between him and Opal. The horse was a sweetheart, and she somehow seemed to realize that Tristan needed some space, because she would speed up and slow down with Opal’s pace, and even move to Tristan’s other side, just to protect him from Opal.

Not that Tristan needed protection from Opal. He just wasn’t sure what to say to Opal, or what to do with the knowledge that Opal… loved him.

That thought was enough to make him wince anew, because he wasn’t sure what to do about it. It had been a long time since someone had declared their love for Tristan, and those relationships ended up dwindling not long after.

Maybe he had commitment issues, as his mother had once told him.

Except… Maybe he’d be willing to stay with Opal for just a little longer. Opal was different. Opal talked a lot, certainly, but he listened, too.

And the sex was always hot and satisfying, which wasn’t something that could be said of some of his drunken encounters.

Opal made Tristan want to do better.

He shook off the thoughts, patting Feather’s side.

The horse was attuned to him, and he needed to calm down before Feather started to see Opal as an enemy instead of a… what? Opal had turned into more than simply a traveling companion, though Tristan didn’t know what to call it, exactly.

Opal had been talking for the last half hour of their journey, and Tristan half-listened as he gazed at the compass. It was leading them toward the mountains, and while he didn’t exactly like the idea of venturing into them this late in the year, it would be worth it when he got his hands on that sword.

Finally, he realized Opal had asked him a question, and he was looking expectantly at Tristan over Feather’s shoulders. Damn it.

“I’m sorry. I missed that,” Tristan said apologetically.

“Just that it’ll probably be snowy up on the mountains,” Opal said. “And it’s easier to keep warm if we share body heat. I get cold easily. We’ll have to cuddle even closer.”

Tristan smiled wryly at him. “I’ve noticed. Your toes are always freezing. I brought blankets, though. They should help.”

“That sounds very cozy,” Opal said with a bright smile. The sun highlighted his features in a way that made him look positively glowing.

Fuck, Opal was gorgeous. Tristan couldn’t deny that. More beautiful than any woman he’d been with, more devoted, more pure, more… everything.

He’d stuck by Tristan, even after Tristan ditched him.

“The play was fun,” Tristan blurted out. Shit, that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say, either. He’d been pretending to ignore everything that had happened yesterday. “I liked the music.”

Opal nodded. “Yes. You said you played the flute, right? Did you play that kind of music?”

Tristan’s smile faltered a little despite how hard he tried to keep it in place. “I played all sorts of music,” he said. “Mostly ballads, though. My mother liked those, and she thought I could use it to attract all sorts of ladies and lads.”

“She was looking out for you,” Opal said with a slight nod. “That’s nice of her. And I, um, my singing isn’t that great, I definitely do not have a siren’s voice, but my father did teach me a little so if… that is, if you’d like to… we could maybe play together sometime?”

He sounded so hopeful that Tristan’s heart tightened.

“I, ah…” He was relatively certain he’d already told Opal he’d destroyed the instrument, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to relive that moment again, didn’t want to talk about it at all. “I haven’t replaced it,” he finally said. Opal looked positively crushed, and Tristan hurried to continue, “But I will. I’ll get a new one after this quest is over, and we can play together.”

“Yeah.” Opal fell silent, and Tristan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not.

They’d reached a bend in the road when Tristan heard humming.

Tristan looked over Feather’s shoulders at Opal, and sure enough, Opal was humming a song… the ballad of Ivar and Raymond, if Tristan remembered correctly.

Then Opal opened his mouth and began singing.

Tristan’s steps faltered, and he almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Opal had said he wasn’t good. He’d expected something a little off key, charming in its earnestness the way everything Opal did was charming.

“…the loneliness of his heart // led Ivar searching far…”

But this was beyond sweet and adorable in ways Tristan would never have guessed. Opal was wonderful. He stopped, simply staring at Opal as he sang.

Opal stopped mid-sentence and caught Tristan’s gaze, his face going red. “Um. Sorry, I know it’s probably not as good as what you’re used to. I’ll ask my father to sing for us next time, or…”

“No,” Tristan said quickly. “You’re marvelous, Opal.” His smile was utterly sincere as he looked at Opal, feeling a little bit like a lovestruck youth all over again. “I think I know that song. I don’t have a good singing voice—and don’t tell me you don’t, because you certainly do—but…”

He trailed off, and Opal looked at him with an expectant smile.

After everything Opal had done for him, Tristan could risk a little bit of embarrassment. He cleared his throat and sang, “...for the love of one fair lad.”

Opal let out a soft laugh, and with an even wider smile, continued the song, his voice intermingling perfectly with Tristan’s.

They got through all of the ballad of Ivar and Raymond, and when that was done, Tristan went on to a more humorous song, which Opal also knew. Somehow Tristan ended up crossing over to Feather’s other side, so he could walk side by side with Opal, and they sang until both their voices were a little hoarse.

Tristan finally called for a pause. He dug in the saddle bags, and he looked longingly at the wineskin. But he was enjoying the day too much to lose it in a haze, and he found a waterskin instead.

Once Opal had drunk his fill, he rested his head on Tristan’s shoulder. “That was lovely,” Opal said. “And you do sing very well.”

Feather turned her head and looked at the two of them, making a noise that sounded very much like a scoff. She was looking directly at Opal, though.

Tristan absently patted her neck, then put the water away again.

The horse stamped her feet, clearly trying to get Tristan’s attention, and he found a carrot to offer to her. It seemed to help, if only briefly, letting Tristan speak to Opal without further interruption. “Thank you. I’m out of practice,” he admitted. “With everything, really.”

He glanced down at the compass to ensure they were still going the right way, then steeled his nerves. He was a knight of the realm, off to kill a dragon. Surely he had more than enough courage in him. If he could face a dragon, he could face Opal.

Tristan turned around and took Opal’s hands into his own. “Opal. Um. I wanted to say… I heard you. At the play.”

Opal’s smile got a little brittle. “It was a bad choice on my part. Too many people around, and no romance, and…”

“No, hold on,” Tristan interrupted, before Opal could get too distracted with his side tangents. “I wanted to say. Um, I heard you. And I’m… happy. To have you here. But this is new, and I don’t know how I feel about a lot of things. I don’t want to ruin anything between us, but I also don’t want to say anything I don’t mean. It would be wrong of me to say things I don’t even understand yet. So maybe—”

Before he could finish, Opal kissed him.

Tristan opened his mouth in surprise, and Opal’s tongue slid inside, deepening the kiss instantly. Tristan groaned, and his hand went up to grip the back of Opal’s neck. He still didn’t know what it was about Opal that made it so easy to lose his inhibitions, but he wasn’t going to complain.

It felt good.

Opal pulled Tristan closer to him with surprising strength. “No talking, no considering,” Opal said. “I just want to be with you.” He tugged on Tristan’s shirt to get it untucked from the belt.

Usually, Tristan would’ve protested. He should have protested. He was trying to say something important! But Opal tasted so good that it was hard to think of anything else when he gave himself over to it. He stroked the back of Opal’s neck, keeping him close as he teased his tongue into Opal’s mouth in turn.

It was fucking divine.

Opal ran his hand over Tristan’s exposed stomach. The air was cool around them, and this really wasn’t the place for this sort of thing, but Tristan was finding it hard to care about those things. His cock was surprisingly hard for having had just one kiss.

That was what Opal did to him, though. He’d never been this attracted to anybody before.

He couldn’t help but moan, and he pressed against Opal’s body. It was strange to feel another man’s cock against his own, and it didn’t feel like he thought it might—but he kept doing it because he wanted the sensation.

Opal kept kissing and nipping Tristan, his cool hands roaming all over and even gripping Tristan’s ass. His fingers dug in hard enough that Tristan thought he might have bruises, but those didn’t matter. All that mattered was the heady pleasure, and he kept grinding his cock against Opal’s.

Should he offer to stroke Opal, or suck him?

It seemed like he should do something in return, because Opal did so much for him. It made his nerves flutter a little, and he wasn’t sure he could actually do it. But he’d try, because Opal made him feel so very good.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Tristan asked breathlessly, his hand sliding down Opal’s front. “I… I think I can try.”

“Yes,” Opal said—only for him to pull back, making Tristan frown in confusion. “No. Fuck, um. Let’s just… do this. Frot against each other. It’s… too cold to take our clothes off.”

Tristan frowned at him, the words taking a moment to reach his brain. “It’s not that cold,” he pointed out. His lips tingled with the need to steal another kiss, and he grabbed Opal and pulled him close again. “But…” He couldn’t help but laugh. “How do we do this? It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be very satisfactory.”

Opal kissed him, running his tongue over Tristan’s lips, then looked around. “Let’s lie down over there, by the rocks. You can be on top of me? Or…” Opal made a frustrated sound and gripped his—apparently very girthy cock—through his skirts.

Tristan stared down at that covered length, trying to comprehend how delicate Opal could have anything that big between his legs.

He was glad he wasn’t interested in being the one to take the cock instead of giving it, that was for sure.

“Or?” he prompted. He’d wanted to be on top of Opal, to be able to see him face-to-face while they fucked, and he didn’t really want another option. But Opal was so dodgy about it that he didn’t want to push too hard.

“Next to each other?” Opal bit his lip adorably. “You at my back, fucking me. Let’s do that. I can’t kiss you that way, but it should be fine. You won’t leave in the middle, right?”

The idea of leaving in the middle was horrifying. To be away from Opal and his kisses… No. No, he wasn’t going to abandon Opal again. No matter what, he was going to keep Opal by his side. He kissed him again, with more insistence, more fervor, and whispered against his lips, “I won’t abandon you again. It was a mistake I won’t repeat.”

Then there was no time for words, because he wanted nothing more than to kiss and be kissed—to touch and be touched. He sighed, stroking Opal’s hair.

“I just like kissing you,” Tristan admitted. “There’s something…” What was the word? “Addictive,” he decided on, “about it.”

Opal laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He rubbed Tristan’s jaw before going in for another kiss, and Tristan couldn’t think of a reason not to give in. It was so good, and his cock throbbed, and all he wanted was to lose himself in Opal.

Maybe this was how Opal felt all the time.

“I want you so much,” Opal murmured. “All the time. The way you smell, the way you look. It’s not just my delusions. I knew when I first met you. You’re mine. My perfect knight, my perfect romance, my treasure.”

Tristan was far from perfect, but when Opal said it, he couldn’t help but believe that he could be better than he was.

Tristan ran his hand down Opal’s back, his fingers tangling in the strands, and he kissed Opal over and over again. “I need… I need to touch more of you,” he said. “Let’s go lie down so I can feel you against me.”

Opal nodded, and began leading them toward the small rocky clearing, still kissing Tristan between every step.

Things were getting a little hazy, but in a good way. Tristan couldn’t remember ever having been so hard in his life. Even the other times with Opal felt muted in comparison. He couldn’t even stop himself from grinding against Opal like a dog.

When they were finally on the ground, Tristan found he didn’t want to stop kissing Opal. He just wanted more of that divine taste.

Something felt wrong, but Tristan ignored that small misgiving because Opal kissed him back, guiding Tristan into lying on top of him. Opal’s hard, thick cock pressed against Tristan’s stomach.

“You’re so big,” Tristan mumbled, shifting a little so Opal’s cock rubbed against him. “Is that why you won’t show me your cock?”

Opal froze, then let out an awkward laugh. “It’s not very… dainty, yeah. An unromantic cock.”

Tristan didn’t particularly care if it was romantic or not. All he cared about was that he couldn’t feel it even though that was what he wanted more than anything. He wanted to reciprocate everything Opal had done.

Well.

Almost everything.

“But I want to touch you,” Tristan insisted, and he was vaguely aware of the way his voice was slurring—like he’d had too much to drink, but that was silly since he’d had nothing to drink at all. Maybe he was just drunk on Opal. Maybe the romantic feelings really were going both ways.

“I’m, uh…” Opal kissed Tristan again, and somehow that ended up with him rolling them so that Opal was on top and Tristan was below. Opal began unlacing Tristan’s breeches. “Here, I’ll ride you. Then we can keep kissing.”

Tristan hummed at that, and he thought that maybe he could handle it. Maybe. He just wanted so much from Opal. “Okay,” he finally said, because it meant he’d get something. “But… Do you…” He didn’t know where his thoughts were, didn’t know how to put them into words. “Shouldn’t you get pleasure, too?”

“Oh, I am,” Opal assured him with a very wicked smile that went straight to Tristan’s cock. “I love your thick cock inside me. I love seeing your face as you come. I love…” He cut himself off and sat up, straddling Tristan’s hips. He bunched his skirts up so that he could position himself, and Tristan thought there was something missing here too, like they’d skipped a step, but Opal was so sure of himself, and Opal tasted good, then Opal was sinking down on him and it was all warmth and pressure and so, so good.

Tristan groaned, reaching out to grip Opal’s hips. He tried to force Opal to hurry, but Opal continued at his slow pace, until he was fully seated, his face flushed.

“Please,” Tristan mumbled, unsure of what he was begging for but knowing he needed it now.

Opal rested his hands on Tristan’s chest, pinching his nipples through the shirt and making him groan. “My treasure. You’re mine,” Opal declared, and finally he began to move.

“Yes,” Tristan agreed without hesitation. “And you’re mine. My gorgeous Opal.” He shuddered, thrusting back into Opal. His heart and mind were too full for him to think of pretty words, and he could only show his pleasure by holding Opal in place while he took him.

He wanted to see Opal with the skirts off, to see what he was hiding… but Opal seemed so self-conscious that he didn’t want to press the issue. Maybe it was more than just the size of his cock that he was embarrassed by. Maybe he had some grievous scar he was ashamed of. He’d show Tristan eventually, and Tristan could reassure him that things like that didn’t matter.

This time, though, it seemed like this was what Opal wanted, and he wasn’t going to deny either of them that pleasure.

Opal set the pace, but Tristan maintained it, the floaty feeling that came with having sex with Opal making him want to continue so badly. It was almost pathetic how little control he had over himself, like he was still a youth whose cock had a will of its own.

“Right there,” Opal groaned, tightening his ass around Tristan. He leaned down to kiss Tristan again, tongues intertwining while Opal expertly milked him.

Tristan wasn’t going to last long at all. He truly was a youth all over again. He didn’t understand why he’d been fighting this, this pleasure, this desire.

If nobody else had ever made him feel this consumed by lust, surely that meant there was something about Opal that Tristan desired above all else.

Surely that meant Opal was… more.

He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t care when all he could feel was pleasure. He wasn’t going to last long, and he tried to thrust toward the spot that had made Opal react so strongly, but he felt like he was fumbling with inexperience.

Well, he was, but he wanted to do better for Opal. Opal deserved more.

He couldn’t hold out for much longer though, soon letting out a long groan and spilling into Opal’s tight ass. He clutched at Opal’s hips and kissed him more deeply, trying to keep thrusting to make Opal come before he grew too soft.

Opal moaned and reached down to clutch his meaty cock through the skirt. Tristan wanted to watch, but Opal kept kissing him. Tristan’s eyes fluttered close. A few seconds later he felt Opal stiffening, and his ass clenched even tighter, drawing out everything Tristan had to give.

Tristan’s fingers dug into Opal’s hips, and he was dimly aware that it had to be uncomfortable—but Opal wasn’t complaining, so maybe it wasn’t really bad after all? Opal would tell him to stop if it was hurting him.

When it seemed Opal’s climax had passed over him after wringing him dry, Tristan sagged back, resting his head against the ground. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he’d sacrifice comfort in a heartbeat if it meant feeling that way again.

“Oh,” Opal said, clinging to Tristan. “I should…” He nipped at Tristan’s jaw, his teeth scraping against skin. “Clean up.”

Tristan tried to protest, but Opal pulled off from Tristan and stumbled over to the horse for a clean cloth. Opal adjusted his skirts and brushed his hair, too, as if Tristan would care that Opal was in disarray after an amazing round of sex.

“You don’t have to be so self-conscious,” Tristan said, his voice a little slurred. “You’re beautiful.” He paused, then added, trying to fight through the fog in his mind, “I know I’ve been… awkward. But I’d like to see you. All of you.”

Opal ducked his head, his long hair hiding his expression. “I… soon. Not yet. Soon.”

Tristan wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or a little relieved, because it meant he didn’t have to face the parts of himself he’d never been aware of—not to mention the parts of Opal he was still getting used to. “I wish you could trust me,” he said, and he realized how painful those words were. “But I suppose I haven’t done much to earn that, have I?” In his haze, his mood threatened to flip from so much overwhelming pleasure to something a bit darker.

Opal’s head whipped up, and he shook it. “No, it’s nothing you did. It’s me. I… well, let’s leave it for now, and enjoy a quick nap before we keep going.” He walked back to Tristan, damp washrag in hand, and began wiping him clean. “We still have a long road ahead of us before we find your magical sword.”

Tristan sighed, but acquiesced. “All right,” he said, letting Opal clean him. He reached out, still feeling a bit disoriented, and ran his fingers through Opal’s messy, tangled hair. It was so beautiful.

Opalwas so beautiful.

Beautiful, mysterious Opal, who made Tristan feel good and made him want to be good. It was almost enough to make him want to abandon his quest and agree to Opal’s dreams of a romantic cottage life.

Almost.