Chapter 5

CHAPTER5

Opal’s heart was soaring.

The only way the day could have gone better was if they were literally soaring through the skies. It was a shame that Tristan hated dragons, because Opal could probably get them to the destination a lot faster than their slow amble across the countryside on foot.

On the other hand, this meant the journey was going to last longer.

They’d already spent two blissful days together, walking and chatting and being in love. Tristan had been a complete gentleman and insisted on keeping his hands to himself, like the chivalrous, thoughtful person he was. Which Opal appreciated, he really did, but he would also appreciate a hard pounding, so tonight, he would go for it.

Sparks would fly, the sex would be perfect, and Tristan would realize he’d developed feelings too strong to ignore.

“I think there’s a farm over there,” Tristan said, pointing off in a direction. The setting sun gave his dark skin a golden hue. He cast such a handsome figure with his chiseled jaw and manly stride as he led their pack horse.

The horse, a big creature with a long mane and thick coat, huffed and stamped its feet. It had made it clear that it was only just barely tolerating Opal.

It liked Tristan, though, and Opal was doing his best not to seethe with jealousy every time the horse brushed its muzzle against Tristan’s shoulder. Opal wished they hadn’t bought it when setting out for their adventure.

“Do you want to stop for the night?” Opal asked, hiding his disappointment. He’d envisioned a romantic campfire and huddling close for warmth and their breaths mingling, eyes staring deeply into each other until a kiss was inevitable.

“It’ll be nice not to sleep on hard ground,” Tristan said. “We’ll have plenty of nights where we have to do just that. We may as well see if they have a spare bed. If not, they might at least let us sleep in the barn.”

“Are barns comfortable to sleep in?” Opal asked, reluctantly following Tristan toward the farmhouse. “Aren’t they full of… straw?”

Tristan cracked a smile at him. “I can lay my cloak down for you to rest on,” he said, which was so sweet that Opal almost swooned. “But it’ll be warmer than sleeping outside.”

“We could cuddle for…” Opal started, but Tristan was already several feet ahead, and the horse had licked Tristan’s head and distracted him.

The horse was doing it on purpose, Opal was sure of it.

Opal hoped the farmhouse was abandoned, at least, but the lights coming through the windows and the smoke escaping the chimney destroyed that scenario. An empty farmhouse would have been perfect. The comforts of a bed, without pesky other people.

Tristan was already knocking on the door by the time Opal caught up.

It took a few seconds for the door to open, and a large man with a thick, gray beard opened it cautiously.

“Yes?” he asked gruffly.

Tristan smiled at him, petting the horse’s neck as he held the reins close. “Good evening,” he said politely. “I was hoping your barn might have space for two travelers and a horse. I can barter, of course.”

The man eyed Tristan, and his gaze traveled down to Tristan’s sword. “Travelers?”

He was probably worried that they were bandits. Opal couldn’t stand for Tristan’s honor to be impugned like that, so he went up to Tristan’s side.

“Good evening, kind sir,” Opal said, clasping his hands together. “My name is Opal, a man of little importance, but my companion is the good Sir Tristan, a knight in His Majesty’s court. He is on a noble quest to… um… to deal with the magical perils of the countryside—”

Tristan eyed him, and a slight hand gesture had Opal pausing long enough for the man at the door to speak.

“Knight? Magical perils? Are you talking about the damned undead that have been plaguing the Whitewater Swamp?”

“I didn’t know about that particular problem,” Tristan said, his voice taking on a more formal tone as he addressed the man, “but I would be remiss if I didn’t seek to remedy it while I’m in this area.”

The man nodded and finally stepped back, opening the door enough for them to step inside. “You’re in luck. My wife was just finishing supper. You can dine with us. And there’s an empty stall for your horse in the barn.”

Oh, goodie. Now Opal had to share Tristan with two people. “I’ll, um… I’ll put the horse away.”

Tristan smiled at him, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “The horse’s name is Feather, you know.”

“I know,” Opal said with a huff. “I simply am choosing not to use it.” He made a shooing motion. “Go on, get settled. Me and… Feather… will check out the barn.”

“No, I think I should do that,” Tristan answered, clapping Opal on the shoulder. “Go get warmed up and meet our hosts.”

Of course he was going to be gentlemanly like that. Curse Tristan for being so good. But Opal waved sadly and watched Tristan lead the horse away—which left him alone with the farmer.

“Um, what did you say your name was?” Opal asked the man.

“I’m Sean,” he said. “And my wife is Eleanor.” He walked farther into the little house, and Opal had no choice but to follow. It was significantly warmer inside, and Opal had to admit it smelled fairly nice, too. They walked past the entrance and into a room with a round table, just next to an open doorway that led to the kitchen.

The wife in question gasped when she saw Opal. “Oh. I didn’t expect a noble lady—”

“Not a lady,” Sean interrupted her. “This here is Opal. He’s traveling with a knight.” He sounded boastful, as if he’d done more than simply greet them at the door.

Opal smiled and inclined his head at Eleanor. “Good evening, good lady. Your food smells delicious.” He licked his lip briefly to take in more of scent, and he smiled through it. Chicken. That was definitely chicken, and without any of the many spices humans used to spruce up the taste of things.

There was probably a cow out in the barn they could slaughter… or they could just eat the horse. That would be tastier. Opal didn’t think Tristan would like that idea though.

Tristan returned from the stables, sweat glistening on his brow, and Opal thought it rather looked like morning dew upon his features. Not that there was anything romantic about this meager chicken dinner, but at least he could gaze upon Tristan’s features to keep himself occupied.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Tristan said, bowing to Eleanor.

“You must be the knight, then,” Eleanor said, setting two bowls down on the table. “Please, sit. Sean, go get the mead! We have guests. Noble guests!”

Sean grumbled but went into the kitchen.

“Ah, but we aren’t nobles. I’m a simple knight. Opal is…” Tristan trailed off, looking at Opal, and his brows furrowed. “Opal isn’t a noble either. Please, we are only humble travelers.”

Opal sat down at the table, and his heart fluttered in his chest when Tristan took one of the seats next to him. “Exactly. Humble travelers. Although Tristan is an amazing knight. He rescued me from some brigands a few days ago.”

“Brigands?” Eleanor looked positively scandalized. “There have been more of those around lately. But did Sean tell you about the—”

“Yes, Eleanor, I told them about the undead,” Sean interrupted, coming back with a large jug. “Where’s the rest of the food, woman? Don’t stand around gossiping!”

Eleanor rolled her eyes and lightly slapped Sean’s shoulders. “Well, make sure they know where to find them! We can’t keep taking the long way around the swamp!” Then she headed into the kitchen again, presumably to get the rest of the… appetizing… smelling food.

Tristan pulled two sets of utensils from his pack, passing one to Opal as he favored him with one of those heart-warming smiles. “Here you are.”

Opal smiled brightly at him and took the knife and fork. “You’re so thoughtful, Tristan.”

Sean sat down on Opal’s other side and began pouring the mead. “Sorry it’s not fancy wine. But it’s as good as if brewed by the gods themselves. The farm north of here cultivates honeybees, and the mead they produce…” He passed the first mug to Tristan.

Tristan took it with a word of thanks and took a sip, murmuring approvingly to the man. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for sharing it with us.” He eyed Opal sidelong.

Opal smiled awkwardly and took the mug Sean offered to him. He quickly took a sip. It tasted fine. Opal would have preferred a cool glass of water or a nice hot tea, but he knew humans liked alcohol. “Thank you, Sean. You were saying, about the swamp and the undead?”

Eleanor returned then with another two plates, and a basket of bread. She set those down in front of her husband and her own seat before sitting down. “It started about a month ago—”

“Longer,” Sean muttered. “Just after the king died, wasn’t it?”

“That’s only been a month,” Eleanor countered.

Oh, gods. It was going to be one of those nights, wasn’t it? They should’ve stopped in a clearing where they could lie out on the grass and gaze at the stars while they held hands. Sure, they would’ve had to eat more travel food, but that wasn’t that much worse than the bland chicken their hosts were presenting to them.

“It’s been a little over a month, yes,” Tristan interjected diplomatically. “Go on.”

“Well, I have no clue what set it off. Suddenly there were rotting corpses walking through the swamps. Especially at night, but Peter—that’s Michael’s son, not Erik’s son—saw them out during the day last week. Charlotte thinks—”

“Nobody cares what Charlotte thinks,” Sean interrupted. “Eleanor, the important parts! About how they dragged off Peter’s—Erik’s son, not Michael’s son—cows and left the dried husks on the road.”

Opal really didn’t care who was whose son, but Tristan was listening with a somber expression on his face. He seemed to be taking this quite seriously, which meant Opal needed to do the same, right?

“Dried husks?” Tristan asked between bites of the increasingly boring chicken.

Opal poked at the chicken, which was barely more than a dried husk itself. “That sounds like a lamia. Are you sure you saw undead? Were there any shed skins lying around?”

Tristan’s head rose quickly, surprise etched onto his features as he looked at Opal. “A lamia? I’ve never heard of them being in Phassis.” He scowled. “Just one more danger to fight.”

“What’s a lamia?” Eleanor asked, her eyes wide as she stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth.

“Vile creatures,” Tristan muttered, taking another gulp of the wine.

“Lamias are…” Opal shrugged, giving more of an explanation. “They’re half human, half snake creatures. I’m not sure if they can take on a fully human form. Probably not. I think their preferred meal is blood seasoned with blood.”

Sean made a face.

“Really, Opal, you aren’t going to be safe traveling with me. You should turn back for the city,” Tristan said before sipping more of his mead.

As though Opal would ever leave his beloved knight to face those dangers on his own!

Opal cut off a piece of the chicken and swallowed it quickly, glad he didn’t have to actually taste the thing. “And I’m much safer at your side than alone, Tristan! One of those dastardly lamias could attack me while I’m on the road!”

Sean coughed, reminding Opal that the couple was still there.

Opal took another sip of the mead. “Anyway, maybe we should hear more about what’s been going on in that swamp.”

Tristan gave Opal another long look before turning his gaze to Eleanor. “Is there anything that might support a lamia’s presence? Has anyone actually seen these undead? Or are they simply… ah…” He waved his hand, not seeming to know how to finish the sentence.

Bless him. His poor knight looked so lost.

“Well, Peter saw them,” Eleanor said mulishly. “And as I said before I was interrupted, Charlotte thinks the gods are displeased with His Majesty’s murder, and that’s why they are sending punishment raining down on us.”

“But the undead are only here, and not in Naran,” Opal pointed out. “Unless there actually have been undead in Naran, Tristan?”

Tristan shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he said as he looked between Eleanor and Sean. “But I can try to talk to Peter and see if he can be clearer on what he saw.”

“Which Peter?” Eleanor and Sean both asked at the same time.

Eleanor laughed. “Peter, Michael’s son, lives about two hours north. And Peter, Erik’s son, is an hour south.”

That would be a trivial distance to traverse if they were flying, but… Opal noticed Tristan frowning, too.

“Maybe we can just head to the swamp. Where’s that, east of here?” Opal sipped more of his mead, then decided it just wasn’t worth drinking more of it. He pushed his mug closer to Tristan.

Tristan had apparently already finished his mug, because he smiled at Opal and took a sip from the offered mead. “We can certainly look into it. It won’t be that far out of the way, after all, and I’d hate to leave another threat in Phassis active.” His smile melted away.

The couple was very excited by this, and they kept chattering on and on about the swamp and all their neighbors and the local market. Opal smiled and pretended to be interested, although all he wanted to do was escape to the barn with Tristan. He scooted his chair closer so he could at least press his thigh against Tristan’s.

Tristan cast him a distracted look, but he was paying more attention to the couple. Still, he pressed back against Opal after a moment. Soon, Opal noticed Tristan had drained the second mug of mead. Tristan didn’t refuse when Sean offered him a refill. He seemed perfectly alert, but by the time he took the fourth mug, Opal started to fret.

Humans who over-consumed couldn’t perform. Alabaster had told Opal this and gone on at lengths to describe floppy cocks and disappointing evenings. Opal still had a lot of plans for the night, and he didn’t want Tristan so out of it that he wouldn’t remember things.

“Could you pass me the, um…” Opal said, and before specifying, he reached out across the table for the breadbasket. As he pulled it back, he swung it in such a way as to knock into the mead mug. “Ack! Shoot, I’m so sorry!” Opal exclaimed. He set the breadbasket down and pulled out a handkerchief to try to mop up the mead.

Tristan jerked back in surprise, looking at Opal, but before he could speak, Eleanor got up. “Oh, it’s fine,” she said, in a tone that made it sound like it wasn’t fine at all—but Opal didn’t really care. He wasn’t going to let her good mead get in the way of his fun that evening. “I’ll get a cloth.” She got up and exited the room.

“Oh, that’s a damn shame,” Sean said in sympathy. “We’re about out of the mead.”

Opal could kiss the man.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t… overindulge,” Tristan said, and when Eleanor returned with a cloth, he took it from her and sloppily started sopping up the mess.

Opal did his best to help, even after Tristan tried to bat his hands away. Then he put on an innocent expression. “I truly am sorry. I’m not sure what happened, I’m not usually that clumsy. Maybe I’m just tired? It’s getting a bit late, after all.”

Tristan took the hint, at least. “Yes. I don’t… I don’t want to…want to be a burden. Thanks for all you’ve offered. We’ll look into the swamp and kill the monster.” He dug into his coin purse and, after a bit of fumbling, set a few silvers down on the table.

The couple didn’t protest the payment, even though Tristan and Opal were about to do them a very big favor. They didn’t have to go deal with a swamp monster. Opal still thought it was probably a lamia, and he would feel a bit bad about murdering one of those, unless the lamia was an asshole. Maybe Opal could simply talk to them while Tristan wasn’t looking.

But they were finally free of the social obligations, and they headed into the barn that smelled of proper food. Opal eyed one of the penned-in cows longingly.

“We’ll have to have a proper steak meal sometime…” Opal said, before realizing that Tristan’s gait was a little more unsteady than usual. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Tristan said, though his voice was slurred. “Everything’s fine.”

A man Tristan’s size should be fine with… four mugs of mead, right? It couldn’t have been that strong. He should still be able to get it up without passing out or something equally unimpressive. Opal hoped so, but Tristan was quick to lay his cloak down atop some straw and settle down on it.

“Let’s go sleep,” he said. “Fighting tomorrow. And a hangover.”

Opal didn’t want to sleep yet. He settled in next to Tristan and stroked Tristan’s jaw. “I had a good time today,” Opal said quietly, wrinkling his nose against the alcohol scent on Tristan’s breath. “Just the two of us. Do you think we could… That is, I would love a good-night kiss?”

Tristan hesitated for a moment, long enough for Opal to start to get impatient. The knight obviously didn’t have a problem with men who loved men, but he seemed to be having a difficult time getting it through his head that this was a romantic story that ended up with them together. “I… guess,” he said slowly.

Opal scooted closer so their chests were pressed against each other. He didn’t want to resort to his saliva, but if that was the only way to get Tristan to actually admit he wanted this…

He pressed their lips together chastely. There, that had no spit at all. Tristan was still in his right mind, four mugs of mead notwithstanding.

Tristan didn’t deepen the kiss, much to Opal’s dismay, though he reminded himself that he didn’t want to use his fluids to influence Tristan—although if Tristan was the one to deepen the kiss, then it could hardly be considered Opal’s fault. Still, Tristan wrapped one hand around the back of Opal’s neck, and he pulled him closer to snuggle against him.

“This is nice,” Tristan said quietly after a moment.

“Yes,” Opal agreed, sighing happily. It would be nicer if he could feel Tristan’s erection against his thigh, but any sign of affection from Tristan was good.

“What is it about you?” Tristan asked, the words still coming slowly, uncertainly. “I’ve never liked men before, but you’re so pretty. I even like having you here.”

“I like men,” Opal said carefully. “I mean, I wouldn’t discount a woman entirely? But mostly I’ve liked men. And I really like you. I know I seem… excessive, but the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew. We’re meant to be.”

Tristan let out a nervous-sounding laugh that went on a little too long. “Meant to be? More like… meant to fuck. Don’t even know you.” He reached out and touched Opal’s face, though, brushing back some of his hair. “You’re very romantic. I’m not romantic.”

That simple touch sent a shiver through Opal’s body. “You’ve had a hard life,” Opal said carefully. “I can distract you from those terrible things. Let me make you feel good.”

Tristan let out a soft breath that smelled like mead, then leaned forward and kissed Opal again. “What if they hear us and kick us out?” he said after a moment.

“I am very sure they won’t hear us,” Opal whispered, smiling at Tristan. It was dark enough that Tristan might not be able to see Opal. Maybe that would work to Opal’s advantage, though. He nipped lightly at Tristan’s lips. “I bet they’re fucking right now, too. They clearly loved each other, despite all the bickering.”

Tristan chuckled, fumbling as he ran his fingers through Opal’s hair. “They bickered so much. They got no one else to argue with, anyway.”

Opal leaned into the touch, then turned his head to kiss the palm of Tristan’s hand. “Please. How do you want it? My mouth, my ass… we could rub our cocks together…”

No, wait. Opal shouldn’t have suggested that one. As hot as it would be to have Tristan’s cock between both of his own, that would probably give away the whole different anatomy thing. Maybe if he was the one with his hand around their cocks though…

Tristan’s lips twitched into a smile, and he laughed. “Don’t care. Just wanna fuck you. Your hole was so hot. It’s not like a woman at all.” He rested his head against Opal’s shoulder. “I don’t know where to touch.”

“It’s not so different,” Opal said with a small smile. “Okay, I only have one hole, but it’s mostly making each other feel good. And you don’t have to worry about touching my cock. I know that’s a bit strange at first. We’ll work up to it!”

“I know how to touch my own cock,” Tristan said. “Easier than pleasing a woman. Just stroke it and it spurts.” He chuckled like that was the funniest joke ever. “Guess all cocks are the same.”

He wouldn’t say that if he knew Opal had two of them, but Opal only smiled at him. “They really are.” Except for how his cocks weren’t quite the same shape and feel as a human’s. But in the dark, and for somebody unfamiliar with touching other men, it probably wouldn’t be noticeable. “What do you want to do, my darling knight?”

Tristan seemed at a loss for a moment, faltering. Finally, he said, “Let’s… do something we both enjoy. I wouldn’t ask you to suck my cock when I’m not quite… erm…”

“I enjoy sucking cock,” Opal said eagerly. “But I could ride you again? Or you could throw me over that hay bale.” Even if the hay was probably scratchy and uncomfortable. That was a euphemism though, wasn’t it? Rolling in the hay. And Opal was going to do it literally. That part would be fun, at least.

“I doubt you’d enjoy that, unless you like sharp things pressing into your chest and potentially your cock,” Tristan said. “Let’s try that thing you said… Rubbing our cocks together?” He looked uncertain, which just touched Opal’s heart in all the right places, and he clung to Tristan’s callused hand.

“Then, um…” Opal wracked his brain for a way to do this that wouldn’t give him away. While he thought, he undid the laces on Tristan’s breeches and slowly withdrew his cock. It was as lovely as it had been the night before, and more of Tristan’s natural scent wafted to Opal’s nose. He truly did smell divine—or he would have, if not for the persistent smell of alcohol.

Tristan drew back a little, starting to fumble with Opal’s shirt and skirt.

Well, usually Opal would enjoy having an enthusiastic lover, but he couldn’t risk Tristan seeing what he was hiding under that skirt.

“It’s a bit too chilly to strip all the way,” Opal said, although he wasn’t actually cold. He pulled the skirt up, tucking one cock along the folds of the fabric discreetly, and twined his legs with Tristan’s so that his free cock could push against Tristan’s. This had the advantage of hiding the burgeoning second erection, too. Win-win.

Opal took Tristan’s hand and guided it to wrap around their cocks and was gratified by Tristan’s moan.

Tristan squeezed a little more tightly, his head tilting slightly back. He didn’t grasp around and explore, much to Opal’s relief, simply sticking to what seemed easiest. Tristan bucked, though, and the grunt he made was satisfying.

Carefully, Opal covered the heads of their cocks with his hand, rubbing the tips together—and further hiding the top of his own cock. He hoped Tristan was maybe a little too drunk to notice the ridges of his cock, and how unlike a human’s it was even discounting the fact that there were two of them.

Tristan groaned and leaned forward, kissing Opal more fiercely this time. “More,” he said against Opal’s lips. “Gods, don’t tease me, Opal, or I will toss you over a hay bale and have my way with you.”

Opal moaned in response, returning the kiss and opening up for Tristan. “Whatever you want, darling. You can fuck me rough and hard. I can take it.” He pumped the heads of their cocks harder. His second cock was probably leaking already and soaking his skirt, but he’d deal with that in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Tristan said, but he was already shifting them. “But this isn’t… This isn’t enough.” He grabbed Opal by the back of the neck and forced his tongue past Opal’s lips, exploring his mouth. “I like kissing you,” he said after a moment.

“I like kissing you too,” Opal answered, his heart fluttering… until he remembered that he’d been trying to avoid the whole aphrodisiac-fluids thing. Drat.

Well, maybe it was okay. Tristan was the one who’d chosen to kiss him. And Tristan was the one shoving Opal face-down over the nearest—uncomfortable—bale of hay, pushing the skirt up past Opal’s hips to expose his hole.

“Wish I could see you better,” Tristan mumbled, his hands fumbling along Opal’s ass.

Opal was rather glad Tristan couldn’t.

Tristan hesitated, then spat in his hand, clumsily coating his cock with it. “You’re ready, then?” he asked, but the question almost seemed rote because Tristan was already pressing the head of his cock against Opal’s hole.

Opal spread his legs wider and clung to the hay bale. “Yes. Please, just fuck me. I love having you inside me.”

Tristan shoved inside of him with little care, and Opal cried out as he was thrust forward a few inches. The sharp ends of the hay poked through Opal’s shirt and scratched his chest, but that was nothing compared to the sudden feeling of fullness, that heat. Opal mewled as Tristan began thrusting, and Tristan’s cock slid close to Opal’s prostate, occasionally even ramming directly against it.

That was so good. Opal tightened his hole in response, eager to give Tristan as much pleasure as he was receiving. Opal’s own cocks were fully erect. The layers of his skirt didn’t protect him much against the roughness of the hay, but he didn’t even care.

Tristan groaned, leaning down to kiss the back of Opal’s neck. Then he bit down hard, sucking and licking at the skin, making Opal mewl in pleasure.

This was what Opal had always dreamed of. A lover who couldn’t keep his hands off Opal, who wanted Opal so desperately he could barely contain himself.

They’d figure out the romance part of Opal’s dreams tomorrow.

Tristan kept fucking him in earnest, sending sparks of pleasure through Opal.

“Are you close?” Opal asked, reaching down for one of his cocks and stroking it sloppily. More pleasure arced through him. “I want… I want you to spill inside me…”

“Yes,” Tristan said hoarsely. “I’m so close. Gods, Opal, you feel so good.” He gripped Opal’s hips, holding him in place as he thrust into him without pause.

The pace was a bit uneven, but Opal kept stroking his cock, and just the fact that Tristan wanted him this badly…

Then Tristan cried out, and Opal felt heat flood him. Opal moaned loudly and stroked himself faster, harder. He managed to come with Tristan still inside him, staining the skirt and the hay bale and not caring at all at what a mess he must be.

Tristan relaxed against him, using the arm around Opal’s waist to pull him back against his chest. “Did you finish?” he asked.

How considerate of him! “Yes,” Opal answered, shifting a little so he could kiss Tristan’s jaw. “You’re so good, darling.”

Tristan ran his fingers through Opal’s hair, slowly withdrawing from inside of him. “Thank you. That felt amazing.” He pulled back, bringing Opal with him. “Let’s sleep.” He sighed. “I hope that wasn’t too much. I just couldn’t resist you.”

Opal nodded and settled against Tristan on the floor, pulling Tristan’s arm over his stomach so they were spooning—with Opal as the little spoon, even if Opal was the taller of the two.

“Good night, my sweet knight,” Opal said as Tristan’s breathing evened out.

They were just three days into their adventure—well, four, if he counted their first meeting—and already Tristan was becoming enamored with Opal. Maybe it wasn’t quite love at first sight, but it was close enough.

Opal closed his eyes and imagined just what he’d write on their wedding invitations.