The great bronze bells of Fedum's Tower tolled at twilight. Their sound signaled the city's curfew as the last of the light slipped beyond the horizon, calling the King's faithful to their homes and beds. As the last deep thrum died away, a priest shuffled past where Cris hid, muttering the common Night's Prayer while clutching her prayer-chain, charms jingling against each other.
Her robed figure moved toward the nearby church. Cris often thought of the church as a hive that received its workers at the end of the night. Go home, he willed her. Obey the bells. The murmuring priest passed Cris without the slightest awareness of him, her gaze fixed on the great stone building.
Cris could have picked a better place to hide. His muscular, rough figure didn't easily fade into the shadows of the stone bell tower, and even his worn leather jacket picked up a shine from the moon. But even if the priest had caught me, she would have done nothing.
From the cut of her robes, Cris guessed she was only of the lower office, and her figure was one that came of many years of soft living. Priests like that claimed to love peace, but in his experience, they used peace as an excuse not to expose themselves to his kind, not even as a chance to use their holy magic.
It's not as though I'm cursed. Amusement welled up in him at the thought. They didn't know what they had missed out on, not that Cris had any desire to show them. His desire was for one person only, though he couldn't say the same for his body. That was shared rather more often.
More robed figures passed him. Cris curled his stiffening toes inside his boots and shifted his weight from leg to leg. The movement made him easier to spot, he knew, but he couldn't risk getting stiff in case he actually had to bolt. He was no slim and agile pickpocket; with his build, he could have become an Enforcer, one of Fedum's chosen.
Instead, an Enforcer chose me. Not just any Enforcer, but the highest office the church had to bestow. Eryk. Cris sank his teeth into his lower lip, trying to ward off the lifting, feathery feeling in his gut, as though his organs had all grown wings. It never changed, not since the first time he'd seen Eryk.
He leaned against the cold, rough stone and willed his mark to come. His mark. Cris grinned at his own joke, but his humor soon faded. If anything, he was the mark. He gave a silent sigh in an attempt to cleanse himself from conflicting feelings and thoughts. He had to stop before he got distracted. The moment was all that mattered.
Windows shut and voices quieted as the decent folk obeyed the curfew. Cris kept his breaths as shallow as possible, especially when a pair of Enforcers walked by, their gold trimmings and steel weapons flashing in the moonlight. Not him. Other than the fact that Eryk carried no weapons, he would also be alone, for he had no true need of a guard. That was the plan, anyway.
The moon moved across the black sky. Cris lowered his eyelids so moonlight wouldn't glint off his eyes, and splayed the tips of his boots out so their shadows would not break the line of the building. The long windows of the immense church across the road all glowed gold at once, as though everyone had lit candles at the same time. Light spilled from the windows, provided by the timed spell that had taken the priests a full day to recharge earlier that year.
Beautiful, but troublesome. No matter how Cris positioned his body now, the tip of his nose and backs of his fingers caught the soft light. Come, Eryk. Come now.
As he had willed it, light, quick footsteps approached, the sound of someone wearing soft, expensive shoes. The big man straightened, bouncing to bring back the liveliness in his legs. If that's not Eryk, I'm in for a bit of unpleasantness.
But the slim, tall figure passed without hesitation, robed in the flowing green garments of the High Justice. Jewels gleamed on his fingers from his rings of office, and over his shoulder, Eryk carried a leather bag. The unlatched flap seemed designed to tempt a thief's quick fingers.
Cris clenched his fists and breathed, willing the fluttering in his belly to quiet. Act now, emotions later. He let Eryk get a few more steps away from him, so he'd have space to make an entrance. His heart began to thud, but this was nothing new. He ran toward the man, making each step loud and heavy as his boots pounded dust into the road. The High Justice turned, a look of mild alarm on his refined features.
Cris lowered his head, cleared his throat, and prepared to growl give me the bag in his best thuggish tones. Eryk raised his slender hand, the tip of his index finger glowing.
And Cris could not talk or move his head, frozen in mid-stride like a statue. Very creative. But why the flashy magic? Eryk usually didn't--
"Who is it, High Justice?" a young woman's solemn voice asked.
Ah, that's why. Cris could move his eyes, and he tracked a tall woman coming into his field of view. Her tightly-braided hair fell over her uniformed shoulder, and while her face was mostly in shadow, he didn't need to see it. He knew that she wore that concerned, righteous expression that all of them did. Especially the new ones.
He wanted to sigh, but couldn't, trapped by Eryk's holding spell. It was bad luck that an Enforcer had seen them, but it happened often enough for the High Justice not to lose his composure. Which Eryk will I see tonight?
The High Justice's kind, grave voice came from Cris's left as the robed man crossed behind him. "We've seen this one before, haven't we, Raquel?" He put a light hand on Cris's arm as he circled the entrapped man.
"I believe we have, Sir," the female Enforcer said.
She wore her uniform well, Cris had to admit. He could not imagine her giving into softness over the years.
Eryk stood face-to-face with Cris, only inches away. The High Justice peered at his face, as though he were looking for a cattle brand. "Let's see." With unhurried fingers, Eryk unbuckled Cris's plated leather coat, and then slipped the first button of his overshirt out of its hole. And then, another.
What do you think you are doing? This elaborate scene was not necessary. Eryk was giving this Enforcer time to get a good look at him, and observation was the last thing they needed. It was a good thing Cris couldn't make any sound. Just arrest me and be done.
But Eryk showed no reaction to Cris's distress. The High Justice reached into his bag and withdrew a tiny silver knife. Its hilt glinted with clear green stones as the High Justice brought it to the edge of Cris's undershirt and slowly cut into it, exposing the flesh beneath.
Cris closed his eyes. It had been a few weeks, longer than they were used to, and this close, Cris just knew he would have given them away somehow. He could not feel the brush of Eryk's fingers over his skin, but he knew what Eryk touched: two shining, straight scars on Cris's shoulder, each the length of Eryk's finger.
"We have a thief," the High Justice said. "He has two strikes upon him."
Strikes that you put there. The pain had been surprisingly brief; then again, Cris had endured far worse in his life. Even pain from the High Justice is a blessing.
"You must bring him in, Sir," Raquel said.
She sounds eager. It must have been a slow week.
"He has two strikes, but he can surely be saved if it's you, Sir. You must, before he becomes one of the Fallen."
Too late for that. Cris couldn't smile, but Eryk's eyes cut over to him in warning. Ah, he knows me.
"You speak the truth, Enforcer. It is my sacred duty," Eryk said, his voice serene and musical. He tapped Cris's shoulder. "As one of Fedum's faithful executors, I exercise my authority to minister to you this night." His fingers arranged themselves over the burn marks, and tapped once. "You are released into my keeping."
The spell ended, and Cris could move again. He molded his face into a scowl and kept his head down to have the best chance of the Enforcer forgetting him. It was at least possible. He'd been blessed with an ordinary, forgettable face, half obscured by a close-cut beard. The only thing memorable about him was the breadth of his shoulders and chest. Exact wrong build for a thief, but the right build for... what I am. Though what he did with the High Justice was not simply practicing his profession. A flush ran through him, bringing heat to his lips and the palms of his hands. Damn it.
Eryk gripped him around the wrist and tugged, his rings cool and smooth against Cris's flesh. Though Cris could find the church blindfolded, he acted as though the High Justice were leading him. Every few steps, he caught the scent of incense clinging to Eryk's robes. How many more times can we do this before an Enforcer finally recognizes me?
The High Justice led them through an arrangement of hedges, past a wide pool that reflected the nearly-full moon, and around to a door set into the side of the church. He turned to face them. "Thank you, Enforcer," he said, nodding to the robed woman. "You may return."
"Sir."
Cris didn't dare look at her, but her clothes rustled as she bowed and left. They are all the same, so stiff with their own righteousness. If Fedum's followers truly worshipped the god of honesty and justice, Eryk would not have to participate in this dangerous charade.
Moonlight highlighted the sharp bones and unlined skin of Eryk's face, and the shape of his skull, the hair cut short almost to the scalp. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but turned back and touched his finger to the door. With a few murmured words, the entrance swung open.
The High Justice tugged him into a stone hallway lit only by small golden globes in alcoves where torches would usually be. For appearance's sake, Cris dragged his feet along the flagstones and kept his head down, though he was sure everyone in the building was at prayer.
Eryk opened the door to his quarters. A rectangle of gold appeared on the joined flagstones where light poured out of the room. He let go of Cris and went inside, murmuring the Call to Truth. "Fedum grant me strength to see what is in my own heart. Show me all paths, but guide me to mine..."
Cris shaped the words in his mind. Open the righteous door so that I, your faithful, may pass through.
Eryk closed the door behind them and traced the sealing rune, and then one for silence. Tension tightened the muscles around his dark eyes, but he held a slim-fingered hand out toward the ever-burning fire and couch.
Cris unlaced his boots and left them by the door. In his socks, he walked across the rug and sat on the couch, its fine cushion giving under him. If he'd been a real thief, he could have taken one thing from this room and sold it for more than he would make in a week. Especially since I have not taken on anyone new in... quite some time.
Eryk poured him a cup of wine and sat next to him. His features, with skin as smooth as polished wood, showed no emotion, and his chest rose and fell under his robes with a controlled rhythm.
Why so silent? Cris usually let things be, but he could not fool himself: this statue-like stillness was different. Cris started trying to scrape his little humor or wit for something to break the silence, but Eryk's gravity was very much like his spell earlier. Cris was caught in it.
The High Justice pinched his eyebrows together in a tiny movement, then relaxed them. "Cris." The single, serious word weighed down the air.
And with that, Cris knew. He didn't think he'd be seeing this Eryk tonight, but he should have expected it. It always ends, he told himself. It was never meant to last. But still, it gutted him like a butcher's knife. He resisted the urge to press his hand to his ribs where he swore he felt pain.
Why now? Was it because it had gone on too long? Was it too dangerous? If that was the reason, Cris could not fault him for it. No, Eryk was unconcerned.
Was it because Cris had come to accept Fedum's truth? How could he not? The light of truth shone from Eryk, the youngest High Justice in memory, in a way that his robes could not shutter.
Damn it. Cris closed his eyes and opened his senses to the soft fizzing of Eryk's magic fire, the spices that were woven into the very fabric of the High Justice's robes, the sound of the other man's breathing. I need to remember everything. Before he tells me, I have to make this moment permanent. But he knew it would not happen.
In one week, the keen edge of the moment would fade. He'd be in someone else's bed. Life would continue, even with a hollow space inside him. Cris met Eryk's eyes and hoped his sorrow would not show; he wouldn't want to burden him with that. "Should I-"
Eryk licked his lips. "I want to go further tonight," he said.
Cris blinked. The words didn't make sense at first. They were nowhere near to we cannot see each other anymore. "G-go further? That was not at all what I expected," he said, too surprised to utter anything less than the truth. Not that he would ever lie in front of Fedum's highest priest.
The High Justice's keen, dark eyes searched Cris's face. "Does that shock you?"
A laugh broke out of Cris, but it was one of relief, and he quickly sobered before Eryk could get the wrong idea. "No, not at all. I just, I." The broad man cleared his throat. "I thought you were..." he glanced at his boots, left at the door.
Eryk leaned forward and grabbed his wrist. "No," he whispered. "No. Why ever would you think that?" Long fingers caressed the back of Cris's hand. "Have I given you cause to believe--"
Cris gave a quick shake of his head to stop him. "Because it's getting less safe," he said. "Your Enforcer saw me. She'll remember my face, and you have so much to lose." And he did not mean the status or comforts of office. Eryk served with his whole self. Even the unfaithful, as Cris once was, recognized the High Justice's goodness. Cris had watched as Eryk's presence in the low, dark streets had encouraged people to accept truth and shun deception in only two years.
A man like Eryk didn't come into the world often. Cris looked into the magic dancing in the grate, twisting like flames. "I don't want to be responsible for--"
"None of that. We are both responsible." Eryk's long fingers pressed into Cris's arm just below the elbow. "Do not attempt to absolve me. Especially as I do not consider you a sin."
Cris had to smile at that. "Oh no?"
The High Justice did not smile back. "Cris. You are one of the best things to ever happen to me."
"That's an interesting way of putting it," Cris said with a smirk. Relief made him giddy, and Eryk had just made it sound like they had met and courted like normal people, not High Justice and illicit companion.
"Stop that." The High Justice never turned away, never looked at Cris out of the sides of his vision, the way that so many people did. His unrelenting gaze traced Cris's features. "You are more than..." Eryk licked his lips again. His smooth brow creased. "I..."
Cris watched him struggle for a moment. "I do know," he said, finally letting himself relax. Only the first time had been an exchange. He laced their fingers together, his own rough and strong alongside Eryk's, which were slim and smooth. As always, there was a brief instant of awed gratitude that he could touch Eryk at all.
Eryk squeezed his hand and lifted his chin. "To be clear, I am not giving you up."
Cris cleared his throat. "That's good." I don't think I could have borne it. I would have had to leave the city so that I would not see you, if you had given me up. But Cris didn't want to lay that at Eryk's feet. Instead, he let his body speak.
He fell back on the cushions and pulled Eryk into him so that the slim, robed form fit in between his thighs. The younger man's weight pressed him down. Cris stroked the soft robes that stretched over his narrow frame. His hands trembled. He wanted to pull Eryk into him and just feel his weight over him, but he settled for rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of Eryk's neck.
This close, he could breathe in the subtle scent of the spiced oils used to anoint the High Justice each morning. "I would never part from you," Cris whispered, lips moving against Eryk's pulse. "If I had to give up worldly concerns and join the church to be near you, I would do it." He held his breath. Damn it. He hadn't intended to come so close to declaring his devotion.
Eryk lifted himself up, hands braced on Cris's chest. "No need for that," he said, a humorous tilt to his eyebrows. "You're more faithful than most of them, just as you are." Slim fingers traced the few deep lines that cut across Cris's forehead. A tingle of magic, Eryk's residual spiritual energy, followed their path. "There is nothing to hide here."
The High Justice leaned down, lids dropping closed over dark eyes. For a moment, he hovered over Cris with only an inch between their faces. Then, his full, firm lips came down on Cris's own.
Cris's heart hammered, but he kept hold of himself to not gasp or stiffen. We never do this. Never. His hands went to the younger man's slim waist, holding him lightly, but wishing again that he could just crush the other man against him. He closed his eyes and fell into the rare contact of Eryk's mouth on his own, the puff of his breath against his cheek. They kissed with closed lips and layers of cloth separated them, but it was still the closest Cris had ever felt to him.
Even through their clothes, Eryk radiated heat. Cris inhaled the scent of skin, velvet, and spiced oil and gave the kiss back, yielding to Eryk. You are extraordinary, Cris thought, his fingers stroking over the shape of Eryk's head. I'll give you whatever you want.
Eryk's hips moved, lining them up so that the High Justice fit over Cris exactly. A small noise escaped his throat at the contact, but he pulled away and braced himself until he looked down at Cris. The younger man's hands pressed into the cushions on either side of Cris's head, and his dark eyes carried his serious intent. "I do not want your reverence," Eryk said. "I'm just... I want to be known to you as-- as a man."
A short dry laugh escaped from Cris's throat; he couldn't help himself. He reached between them and let his blunt, rough fingers traced over Eryk's nose and lips. "You're a man, yes." Cris swallowed and made himself go on. "But not just a man. Not to me." However uncomfortable that makes him, I must still give him my truth.
Eryk's face tightened, and his dark eyes looked to the side. "Cris," he whispered, and leaned down again.
Damn. Cris's hand slid to Eryk's chest just before their lips came together. Eryk could always read him like a book, but he could not do the same. "Eryk, you are different tonight. Tell me what is wrong," he said. His lack of skill with words frustrated him.
"Nothing," Eryk whispered. "I only want to be here, with you." He didn't let Cris speak, but pressed his full lips to Cris's again.
Cris gave himself up. At the very least, he's not ending it. He clutched Eryk to him as hard as he dared, his hands seeking out the slim, strong muscles moving beneath the High Justice's soft robe.
Eryk's tongue licked his bottom lip.
Cris froze. Does he want to...? Cris opened his mouth, and Eryk's tongue slid alongside his own for the first time.
Cris didn't want to move. He hardly dared to breathe for fear of spoiling the moment, but his heart beat so hard he could feel the blood moving through his entire body.
A rough noise came from the younger man's throat, and his slim, long-fingered hands twisted the rough fabric of Cris's shirt. His elbows dug into Cris's chest, but Cris didn't care.
Yes, please, Cris thought. More of this. Cris had never thought that the High Justice would allow himself to be so close to one of his kind. But their wet lips parted only for as long as it took to breathe, and it was Eryk who wouldn't stop tasting him.
Cris's legs wrapped around the other man's thighs; he simply could not help himself. He wanted Eryk to become him, to melt into him. He grabbed handfuls of dark green robes in his fists. His cock ached, stretched tight just after a few kisses, and his hips acted on their own. He thrust up against Eryk's stomach.
He can't miss that, even through all this damned clothing. Panting, Cris broke away from Eryk's mouth and flung his head back. The younger man covered his neck with kisses, and Cris rocked his hips up, moaning. "Eryk... Eryk," he said, his voice little more than a rasp. "Take my damned clothes off before I spill in them." It was an exaggeration, but not that much of one.
Eryk bowed his head until his forehead rested on Cris's shoulder. "Yes, all right," he said. He raised himself up from Cris's body and braced himself on the cushions behind Cris's head. "Sit up."
"You have to let me up, first," Cris said.
Eryk's firm lips stretched with a subtle smile. "I suppose that would make things easier. Just..." He kissed Cris one more time with a long, slow inhale.
Cris's hands went to Eryk's shoulders, but he didn't push him off. He couldn't. We have time.
Finally, Eryk pulled himself away and sat on the couch properly, but Cris arranged himself on the younger man's lap, legs bent around his waist. Eryk, too, was hard; Cris could tell, even through the thick robes, and he wanted nothing more than to get his hands and mouth all over Eryk's bare skin. "Clothes," he said against Eryk's mouth.
Eryk pushed Cris's plated jacket off his shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a heavy thump. His quick fingers slipped the rest of Cris's shirt buttons out of their holes. Cris only wore his trousers and thin undershirt. Eryk touched the place in the fabric where he had cut into the collar.
He can't possibly regret that. "Don't waste your power," Cris said.
Eryk shook his head. "I was wondering if I could heal you, not your shirt."
"I don't want you to. Clothes, Eryk. Get them off. Focus."
"Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?" the High Justice asked, a furrow starting between his fine, arched brows.
"Yes," Cris said. "Naked, with you, as soon as possible." He squeezed his eyes shut. I didn't mean to be so direct. He felt Eryk's fingers grasp the bottom of Cris's undershirt and draw it up over his belly, then over his head.
"Stand up," the High Justice said.
Cris slipped off Eryk's thighs and stood before him. He'd lost any shyness about his body long ago, but his bare skin prickled at how all of him was on display. Eryk could see everything: Cris's heavy cock outlined against the front of his trousers, his various scars, the fast rhythm of his breaths as his ribs and stomach gave him away. And he was looking.
Eryk's fingers went to the closure of his pants, knuckles against the lightly-furred skin below his navel, but he looked up, as if asking for permission.
I guess, I've always taken control. Cris licked his dry lips. "Go ahead," he said, trying not to thrust into Eryk's hand. Why ever did Eryk request me, that first time? He wondered this almost every time they managed to be with each other. He was just an ordinary man with a profession that should have made him untouchable to any of Fedum's executors. What did he see?
He held his breath as his waistband buttons came free. Well, besides the obvious. Cris's size made sure he never was out of work, but Eryk had never used him for it. It's different. He's different.
The younger man shook another button free, the one level with the tip of his cock. Cris closed his eyes when Eryk's fingers grazed its head. They opened again when Eryk rubbed his cheek against his slightly-furred stomach. "I've always wanted to do this," Eryk said.
"Whatever it is you want to do, I'm all yours." Every night, if you wanted me. At least Cris didn't say that out loud.
And then, Eryk moved down. He ran his cheek over the length of Cris's cloth-covered cock, then set his teeth to the buttons.
By the Light. Cris couldn't stop his hands from moving. He touched Eryk's perfectly-shaped head, stroking over the edges of his ears. Eryk managed to undo two buttons with his mouth, and he snaked the tip of his tongue inside Cris's pants to graze the bare skin of his cock.
Once again, Cris's breath stopped. He didn't know if he wanted Eryk to continue, or if he was afraid Eryk would continue, and he would embarrass himself. He bit his lip against any sound and tried to ignore the way his cock pulsed with each beat of his heart.
Eryk undid the rest of Cris's buttons with his fingers, and his cock extended from the open fly. Inhaling, he bent his head and took half of it into his mouth.
Cris shouted. He clutched Eryk's shoulders to keep from losing his balance. Don't move don't move don't move, he told himself, but it was nearly impossible with Eryk's wet, warm mouth around him. He bucked, sending himself deeper. "Sorry, sorry," he gasped, but Eryk clutched his hips so that he couldn't go anywhere without a struggle.
After a moment of just holding Cris inside, Eryk dragged his lips and tongue down Cris's length, making it glisten with his saliva. His tongue explored the veins and ridges and licked away the constant liquid dripping from the head.
When Eryk sucked him in again, Cris's legs shook. This should be illegal. The High Justice himself is sucking my cock.
Eryk's dark gaze rose as though he'd heard Cris's thoughts. His eyes were smiling, and he slowly pulled off, as though reluctant to let Cris go. "How am I doing?" he said, a little hoarse.
"Inspired," Cris said. "But why don't you let me get you out of your--"
Eryk shook his head. "This is what I want," he said, hooking his fingers into Cris's open pants. He pulled them down over Cris's thighs, spending a moment to lick the tip of Cris's cock. "I want you to lie down for me and let me learn what you like."
Cris stared down at the High Justice for a long, silent moment. What I like? "I... like everything," he said. He arched his hips to help Eryk freed his legs from his pants and underthings.
"I don't mean what you're willing to do, but what you like," Eryk said, pulling Cris toward his sleeping alcove by his wrist.
"My answer hasn't changed," Cris said. With a serious look, Eryk pushed him down onto the smooth, cool sheets.
Cris closed his eyes and breathed in the spiced scent of the bedding. Eryk knelt over him, his robes brushing Cris's sides and legs. He trailed his long, slim fingers over Cris's shoulders and arms.
"I love how strong you are," the High Justice said. "And this..." He rubbed his hand over the small amount of hair on Cris's chest, and moved down to his stomach, where the soft fur came together in a line below his navel.
Cris's cock moved, and Eryk took it in his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I already know you like this."
Cris smiled. "Who wouldn't?" he said. He was still hard, but the urge to rut had left him, and Eryk's intensity had turned into something easier for him to handle. For the moment, he was content to let Eryk explore. As long as he doesn't put his mouth on me again. Then, it'll be over.
Eryk leaned over Cris's chest and put his teeth on Cris's earlobe. Cris gasped. Chills ran over his skin, and he couldn't help sliding his leg against Eryk's. Eryk continued with biting kisses down his neck, some soothed by a stroke of his tongue. Cris hadn't known how sensitive he was. "This is amazing," he muttered.
Eryk smiled against his shoulder. He licked along Cris's pectoral muscle until he came to a lightly furred nipple, and lightly circled his tongue around it.
Waves of heat and cold flashed over Cris. His hand flew to the back of Eryk's head.
"Gods, yes, Eryk," he said. His legs wrapped around the High Justice's hips, squeezing him as tightly as he could.
The younger man wrapped his lips around Cris's nipple and sucked, and Cris's eyes rolled back in his head. He gripped his own hair, Eryk's head, and the sheets as Eryk played with his nipples.
Eryk moved up Cris's body and buried his face in Cris's neck, breathing hard.
Cris held the other man to him. His hands touched hot skin, and Eryk's hard length pulsed against his thigh. "You're naked," he said, sliding his legs along the other man's. "How did that happen?"
"Magic," Eryk murmured.
Cris chuckled. "What do you want now? I'm very, very interested."
Eryk reached over him to the side of the bed, and retrieved a vial. But instead of passing it to Cris, he coated his own fingers.
Cris's heart beat faster, and he started to sweat. He licked his dry lips.
"Is it...?"
"Yes, please," Cris said. "Whatever you want to do with those, absolutely yes."
Eryk scrambled over him until he was inches away from Cris. He licked his own lips. "I don't know why saying this is important now, but it is," he said.
Gone was the composed High Justice. Cris could see the boy Eryk had once been, the enthusiastic, but slightly reserved youth from a tiny town. How I wish I had known you then. Eryk seemed to be expecting a response. "Go ahead," Cris said.
"I want you to know that I love you," Eryk said. His expression did not change, but his dark eyes watched Cris's face closely. "Not the love that I have for all Fedum's followers, but the love that I, a man, have for you."
"I love you, too," Cris said. "You do know that already?" The words echoed in the High Justice's cozy stone chamber. He thought he'd find them awkward; after all, he hadn't uttered those words since he had last seen his mother. But it was a simple statement of fact. And if anyone can handle the truth, it is Eryk.
The High Justice smiled, but his eyes retained a hint of sorrow. "Yes."
"But?"
Eryk licked his lips and glanced away from Cris's face. "I must confess that, in my flawed way, I hope that I am unique."
Cris's heart gave a great leap. Jealous. Eryk was jealous. His lips parted, despite not knowing exactly what to say. "Eryk, it-- it's just a job. I'd leave them all and become some spoiled princess's litter-bearer if it meant having a life with you." His hands ran over Eryk's close-shaven head. "Everything I do between the times we see each other is just--"
Eryk stopped him with a warm finger against his lips. "I know," he said, his voice on the edge of a whisper.
Cris could see the conflict in his eyes, and he wrapped his hand around the back of Eryk's neck. We'll figure it out later.
Their bodies moved against each other as Eryk kissed him. Cris opened his thighs so Eryk could fit between them; he'd made no secret about what he wanted.
Eryk made a low sound against his mouth and pulled away. "I don't know what to do."
"Yes, you do. Put your damn fingers inside me," Cris said. "Ah, sorry," he muttered, realizing he'd sworn in front of a priest.
Eryk's stomach jumped as he laughed. But he reached down and stroked the sensitive skin over Cris's opening. "Like this?"
"In me." Cris sucked in a breath as two slim, oiled fingers found their way into his body. "That's it, just slow... good..." Eryk's fingers were stealing his ability to say anything. No one ever wanted him for this. No one ever wanted to do this for him, and yet here was the High Justice himself, opening Cris up, warm dark eyes focusing on Cris's face and body.
"'S perfect," Cris slurred, closing his eyes.
Eryk withdrew and pushed back in again, reaching a little deeper.
Cris was beyond words, but Eryk didn't seem to need them. The slow slide of Eryk's fingers transfixed him, and a drop of liquid escaped out the tip of his cock with every push inside.
Cris reached for Eryk's arm, but his fingers only grazed it. Give me your cock, he wanted to say. He wanted it to stretch him the rest of the way. But mind-reading was not a part of Eryk's magic. Cris felt the younger man move farther down his legs.
Eryk's tongue swiped the tip of him, then sucked the head into his mouth. "Mmm," the High Justice said, sending subtle vibrations down the shaft.
Cris's blood surged, and his passage squeezed around Eryk's fingers. Between that, and the heat of Eryk's mouth, and the gentle rub of Eryk's tongue, he wasn't going to last. "Not yet, not yet," he gasped, fighting his own urge to thrust right into Eryk's throat.
The younger man lifted his mouth away. "Oh yes, right now," he said, his voice a little hoarse. He took Cris in again and sent his fingers a little deeper. With his other hand, he rubbed the hard, tensed muscles of Cris's low stomach.
You are such a... But Cris didn't get the chance to call Eryk anything. His world became the pieces of him that were under Eryk's command, and he finally allowed himself to thrust deep into Eryk's mouth. His fists clenched. His eyes squeezed shut, and his thighs tensed. Eryk! Cris's hole clamped and released around his lover's fingers as he shot his seed down Eryk's waiting throat.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it exploded out of him. Cracking his eyes open, he saw Eryk sitting back on his heels, licking the corner of his mouth. He just swallowed me down. Cris's cheeks were hot. Is that right?
Eryk crawled up Cris's body until his hard cock pressed into Cris's stomach. Their faces were only inches away from each other. "That," the younger man said, "was the most exciting thing to have happened to me." He licked his lips.
"Nothing happened to you," Cris said. "You happened to me, that time." He guided Eryk's head down for a kiss, and he tasted his own spend. "But now, you are going to come into me." He gripped the younger man's hips. He realized that perhaps Eryk had no interest in it; some men did not. Cris hoped that was not the case.
Dark lashes blinked over dark eyes. "Absolutely," Eryk said. He reached over for the oil again.
Cris stopped him. "Let me," he said, and held out his hand. Eryk dripped oil onto his fingers, and Cris smoothed onto Eryk's shaft. Eryk's eyes widened just the smallest amount, and Cris couldn't wait anymore. He hitched his legs up around Eryk's slim waist and dug his heels into the lean muscles of his back.
Eryk exhaled and reached down, positioning himself. "Cris," he said.
"Just press in," Cris whispered. "You'll fit."
Eryk bowed his head until his forehead touched Cris's shoulder. The spiced scent of him surrounded them: spiced oil and incense, warmed by his skin.
Breathing out a shuddering stream of air, Cris shifted until Eryk's cock touched his opening. Though he couldn't get hard again, he was glad of it; he'd be able to open his senses to Eryk, to watch and listen and touch. "Just press," he said again.
Eryk moved into him. Yes, this is right, Cris thought. He let Eryk's length stretch him open, just the way he had hoped. It burned a little. Only because I'm years out of practice.
Cris could hear when Eryk's breath broke up. "Come when you need to," he said, stroking Eryk's smooth back. "You don't need to hold on for me." He kissed Eryk's neck, tasting salt.
Eryk's hips rose and fell, and his cock stroked Cris from the inside. "That's perfect," Cris whispered. He gripped Eryk's back, the muscles shifting under hot, damp skin. Even like this, he's not just a man. He is everything good.
"Cris, I think..."
Cris didn't need Eryk to tell him. He could feel the tremors running through the slender, strong frame. "If you want to last, slow down. If you don't, just pound me." Please, do that. Have me. Cris craved Eryk's strength and energy, to watch his lover's face as he became undone.
Eryk thrust fully in and stayed. "I... I don't want this to end."
Cris buried his face in Eryk's neck. "You're wonderful," he said, squeezing his legs around him. "We have all night. And... longer." He didn't want to talk now, but he wanted Eryk to know that he was here, if Eryk wanted him.
Breath exploding out of him, Eryk drew back and gave Cris what he wanted. The High Justice hammered into him, oil easing the way as his cock pounded in and out of Cris's passage.
Cris gave himself up to the heat, the burn, and the sound of their forms slapping together. By the Light, this is fantastic.
Eryk had started making rough sounds in his throat, and his thrusts had become uneven. "Cris..."
"Yes, do it," Cris said.
Eryk put his face in the pillow to stifle his moan as his seed pulsed deep into Cris. Sweat coated his skin; Cris ran his fingers up and down his back. I'm going to feel that tomorrow, he thought, smiling.
Tomorrow. There was no going back for him. He didn't know what he was going to do, but it didn't involve practicing his profession. Not that Eryk would necessarily mind; theirs was a joining of spirit first, not body.
"You are thinking," Eryk murmured into his ear. "Why?"
Eryk tensed, probably to move off him, but Cris gripped his hips to keep him just as he was. "I seem to be out of a job."
"What do you mean?" Eryk pronounced his words in his practiced High Justice counselling tone.
Cris snorted. "I'm not going back, is what I mean." He tipped his head until his lips could find Eryk's cheek. "And I'm not sorry about it, either. It has been a job, but it's not my work." He had not meant to say that, but now that he had, the truth of it was unmistakable.
Eryk rolled off him and sat up. He touched his stomach where Cris's fluid had smeared, but he said nothing, just watched Cris with probing eyes.
There's no escape from Truth. Having a High Justice as a lover is going to be interesting. Cris rolled over on his side to face him. "All I know is that I don't want to hold myself back from you--"
Eryk raised a slender finger. "I've never thought that. Your job is as a brick-layer, requiring the body. A brick-layer does not love bricks."
Fedum grant me strength to see what is in my own heart. Show me all paths, but guide me to mine. "I don't know what I want, now," Cris admitted. "Except that I have passed through a door, and I... don't want to just ease loneliness. That does not serve people, not truly."
"A pilgrimage, perhaps," Eryk said. "Together. I can take you on as my acolyte. I have always wanted to travel more."
"Doesn't our love violate--" Our love. Cris never thought he'd say those words with such confidence.
Eryk leaned forward. "Our love violates nothing. The only thing that counters Fedum's law is a lie." He sighed, sounding like a man much older, and scrubbed his hand over his head. "Truth is never tied to a place, though the church would like to believe it is." His face changed, as though a light shone on it. "I am not tied to a place. And now, neither are you." He lay back down and pressed his back against Cris's front, waving a hand at the magical fire to bank it. "But the night is not over. Let's rest, and then..."
Yes. Cris wrapped his arm around Eryk's middle. Open the righteous door so that I, your faithful, may pass through, he thought. All I have to do is trust in love, for love is Truth.
They slept.