That word lodged in Hal’s chest. He barely knew how to make sense of it when applied to him; no one had ever called him that. Useful, yes. Strong, certainly. But magnificent? That was a word for noblemen and their fine horses, not for common-born knights with crooked noses and too many scars.
The way Alaric looked at him, heavy-lidded eyes dragging over Hal’s form, dredged something ugly from the pit of Hal’s stomach. No—absolutely not. He couldn’t afford to think on that, didn’t know how to handle the strange emotion he felt when this stranger so openly admired his body. So he grabbed Alaric’s face and pulled him down into another bruising kiss, swallowing whatever other observations the knight might have offered.
“Don’t fuck men like me in your high tower?” he grunted against Alaric’s ear as he moved to sit in Hal’s lap.
“And dirty my reputation?” Alaric quipped back. “Certainly not.”
But he was flushed and rolling his hips, hard length brushing Hal’s belly; how he managed to feign restraint when he was coming undone was anybody’s guess.
“Oh, yeah?” Hal licked up Alaric’s neck and quivered at the other man’s moan. “What’s got you so eager to get down into the muck now?”
“Only the hope,” Alaric said, tilting his neck back down to meet Hal’s eye, “that you’ll keep up with me here as you do in the lists.”
Well, fuck.
Their hips rocked together; cloth-covered friction that wasn’t nearly enough, but still drew a groan from both of them. Gods, it had been a while since he’d fucked anything, hadn’t it? A camp follower a handful of months ago, Perrin’s mouth sometimes, and then the rough surface of his own palm. Had he ever had a lover push back against him with such eagerness? Such force? Had he ever had a lover wrestle him for damn control? It was like trying to sit on a wild horse, the way Alaric moved atop him. Hal’s hands found Alaric’s ass and squeezed, pulling him closer and grinding up against him.
Later, maybe, he’d be mortified by how quicklyhe’dfallen apart. Hal was all grunting animal, no knightly man in sight. But right now, all he could focus on was the heat building between them, the way Alaric’s breath ghosted across his lips, the sounds the knight made when Hal’s teeth found his throat.
Fuck this teasing. Hal flipped them again, using his weight advantage to pin Alaric beneath him and kill any chance the lithe knight would slip free. This time, when the knight laughed, it sounded surprised and pleased, and maybe a little bit hungry.
When Alaric reached down to Hal’s breeches, Hal shifted back onto his haunches, giving Alaric more access. The other knight sat up eagerly, eyes bright and tongue pressed to the corner of his pink mouth as he undid the knot. Then he was pushing the breeches down over Hal’s hips until his swollen cock sprang free. The cool air againstthe tender flesh of his cock made Hal hiss. A slickness coated the head already. Hal watched Alaric’s eyes, watched as they softened and drifted away to someplace primal and old. Hal’s anger was forgotten. He was only a man, or perhaps only a beast, and all of him wanted Alaric; wanted every part of the other knight. Then Alaric’s hand wrapped around him, and all conscious thought fled.
“Gods,” Hal choked out. The grip was firm, not choking; Alaric knew exactly how much pressure to apply, and Hal thrust into it without meaning to. His hips moved on instinct, chasing the sensation, while his mind spun out in a dozen different directions.
This was wrong. This was exactly what he needed. This was going to ruin him for tomorrow’s match. This was the only thing that had felt right in days.
“Let me,” Alaric said. There was a heavy, lulling desire in his voice that made Hal’s knees weak. “Let me taste you.”
The words went straight to Hal’s cock. He moaned, rolled his neck forward and exhaled hot air over his own chest. The thought of Alaric’s mouth on him. . .! The thought of using that aristocratic throat for his pleasure after the man it belonged to had humiliated him. . .!
Hal glanced up. Alaric’s smile had turned wicked. But, Hell, Hal didn’t have to be asked twice: he lay back, and Alaric shifted down the cot, positioning himself between Hal’s thighs. The first wet heat of Alaric’s mouth made Hal’s vision blur at the edges, his back arching off the cot with a strangled, airy sound.
“Fuck,” Hal gasped, fingers clawing at the blanket beneath him. He’d been sucked before, been sucked well, but Alaric was a nobleman, and here he was, dutifully servicing common-born Hal. Hal looked down and saw that pretty face, mouth distended around his cock, Alaric’sbright eyes peering up at him through long lashes. . .shit. Alaric took him deeper, silver eyes flicking upward to watch Hal’s face as his throat worked around him. The knight’s tongue traced patterns that made Hal’s thighs tremble. He was good. He must have done this before, many times.
Alaric pulled back just enough to circle the head with agonising precision, eyes locked on Hal’s to read his expression. Sweat slicked Alaric's aristocratic throat, his pulse visible beneath skin that had likely never known a day's labour. Yet here he was—silver eyes clouded with lust, breath coming in ragged gasps no different from anyone else Hal had bedded. The realisation that desire made equals of them both, that even this highborn knight could be reduced to animal need, sent heat coursing through Halden's veins like strong wine.
Alaric licked the head once more. Hal’s hand slammed onto the back of Alaric’s head and forced him down in one fluid motion. Alaric swallowed him, the vibration of the knight’s appreciative moan travelling through Hal’s cock straight to his spine. Fuck yes. Hal kept a fistful of Alaric’s hair in his palm. Almost in response, Alaric brought his strong hands up to grip Hal’s hips, thumbs pressing into the hollows beside his hipbones, holding him open and exposed.
Hal couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop watching those aristocratic lips stretched around him, couldn’t stop the helpless roll of his hips when Alaric relaxed his throat and took him impossibly deeper. Alaric devoured him like he was starving for it. He bobbed Alaric’s head up and down like the other knight, this beautiful man, was a toy entirely for his pleasure, and?—
“Stop,” Hal choked out, tangling his fingers in Alaric’s dark curls. His body trembled on the knife’s edge—if he hadany hope of lasting, he needed Alaric off him. Immediately. But the knight kept bloody teasing him, licking and sucking, so Hal yanked Alaric’s head up by his hair. The knight hissed in pain, but when he grabbed Alaric’s shoulders and flipped their bodies again, a delighted laugh escaped his lips, beautiful alabaster skin flushing red. Alaric let himself be manhandled into position. All the while, Hal was trying to catch his breath—and some sense of himself.
“You’re damn good at that,” Hal grunted as he worked at the laces of Alaric’s breeches with shaking hands. He’d never done this before—never even considered it, not even with Perrin. But Perrin was his squire; there was nothing there except obligation. Alaric wanted him, and even if it was born from some twisted competitive flair, Hal wanted him, too. He wanted to see what Alaric looked like, what colour that flushed head would be, the size and shape of him, his taste. . .
“What can I say?” Alaric purred. “A silver tongue is a boon at court.”
“Court,” Hal sneered. “You nobles are as filthy as us commoners.”
With that, Hal pulled Alaric’s breeches down. The knight’s cock sprang free, throbbing as it bounced. Hal moaned to himself; of course, this was fucking perfect, too. Hal stared at it for a moment, at the blushed pink tip, at the way it pulsed, the pleasing width and slight upward curse. His mind was a drowned out distant thing, and there was only this lustful, red-faced knight with his twitching cock, waiting for Hal’s mouth.
Only, he’d never done it before. Uncertainty warred with his desire; he glanced up at Alaric, who was breathing hard.
Thing was, Hal liked being good at things. Still, he’dbeen shit at jousting when he started. Hadn’t been good at much of anything straight off the mark. It was only that Alaric was an expert that made him nervous; another thing Alaric was better at.
But this, too, he could learn; he could come to excel at. But first he had to try. And he’d be an eager student; he wanted Alaric to lose that pristine mask completely.
“I’m out of practice,” he murmured, taking Alaric’s cock in hand. It was a white lie he hoped would cover any blunders. Alaric peered down at him, mouth working to reply, but before he could, Hal experimentally licked out over the head.
