After a moment, Davrin managed raggedly, "I want to fuck you."
"Then get on with it, my prince."
Davrin laughed, the sound edged with tension and desperation, and then he was moving away to retrieve something from one of the little cabinets that occupied the head of the bed, and which Cimar had definitely not noticed until that moment. "On your knees, champion mine."
Hopefully, they'd soon get a chance to do this in daylight, where he could insist upon remaining on his back so he could see Davrin's face when he came. For the moment, though, Cimar was more than happy to comply, turning and settling on his hands and knees, spreading wide so Davrin had plenty of room.
Davrin's fingers were as talented as his mouth, and Cimar's spent cock did its level best to rise again as Davrin worked him open, twisting and stretching, knowing exactly how to crook those fingers to make him groan and beg, until Davrin at last replaced those fingers with his cock.
He slid in slowly at first, but just as Cimar was seriously considering murder, Davrin pulled out and thrust back in hard, knocking the thought and the breath right out of him, doing it again before Cimar could even think to recover. Davrin set a pace that had Cimar clutching first at the bedding, and then bracing himself against the elaborate headboard. Sweat stung his eyes, and his lungs were going to give out, but it would be worth the steep price. He rocked in time with Davrin's pounding thrusts, meeting them as best he could but mostly just trying to hold steady.
A second climax took him so hard and sudden he felt dizzy. The hands on his hips tightened, and Davrin sank into him one last time, plastering himself against Cimar's back as he came, breath hot on his skin.
They collapsed in a sweaty, panting pile, and Cimar whimpered when Davrin gently pulled out of him. Exhaustion fell over him like a blanket, the long, arduous day and its unexpectedly delightful end finally taking their toll, and the last thing he remembered was a soft kiss to his lips.
*~*~*
He woke to darkness and the muffled sounds of a roaring fire. He also woke alone, which was disappointing, but as he listened, he could hear the soft, dry crackle of turning pages. Yawning, he pushed through the curtains and out of the bed, immediately shivering in the cold, drawing the attention of the handsome figure by the fire.
Davrin closed his book and set it aside. "You should have stayed in bed." He stood and crossed to Cimar, pulling him in close, wrapping him in warmth and the scent of woodsmoke and brandy, and faded hints of sex.
"I admit I didn't think things through; I simply wanted to see you."
Davrin chuckled and discarded the heavy bed robe he'd been wearing before getting them both back into the warm bed, drawing the curtains closed. "I woke a short time ago and couldn't go back to sleep. Too many thoughts."
"You knocked the thoughts right out of me," Cimar said, settling alongside him, head on Davrin's chest. His heart beat rapidly in his chest; he'd imagined this very scenario a thousand times or more, but never once thought it would come to pass. "I'm still not convinced this isn't some dying dream, and the lindworm got me after all."
"Don't say such horrible things," Davrin replied. "I'm no less stunned, believe me. I accepted a long time ago that I would never be able to call you my lover. I was honored enough to count you a friend, and humbled you agreed to be my champion. I feel greedy and spoiled, but I'm not inclined to give you up, either."
Cimar kissed his chest, then shifted and leaned up to drop another on his mouth. "The path you took led you here, and it seems to me here is a fine place to be, Your Highness. Good for you, good for many, especially after all the damage His Majesty has done. Princess Korena will have her work cut out for her, regaining the trust of the people, rebuilding foreign relations her father has shattered or let waste from neglect. She's smart and clever to take you as her consort." He laughed as fanciful images flitted through his head. "Not to mention the children will be adorable and grow to be beautiful adults."
"It doesn't bother you?"
"What?"
"That she and I will have intimate relations, probably many times."
Cimar sighed. "If we had done this as youths, if I'd never married and one of us had worked up the nerve to approach the other? Perhaps. But I did marry, and Rosa and I… well, we learned quickly that while we were good friends, we did not do well living together as husband and wife. We tried anyway, because that's what you're supposed to do. Marry, make the best of the situation, no matter how bad that situation might be. Ours was certainly not the worst—no abuse, no neglect, nothing like that. We simply had different wants and needs, and finally we sat down one night and simply talked. Decided we should do what was best for us, even if that meant going against convention.
"So that's what we did. We lived as friends. Had lovers. Different lives. Rosa met her farmer, who already had three children, one of them a mere babe. We talked again, and even after the king refused to negate our marriage, she left to be with him, with my blessing. I've never seen her happier. My squire is in love with a married couple, and I suspect they might return those affections. A great many people I know, in fact, are happier because they realized that rules are only as unbreakable as we want them to be. They're a cage made of smoke, and I've never missed finally letting that smoke drift away. What matters is if the four of us are all right with our unconventional arrangement, and it sounds to me like we are."
Cimar kissed him again, chuckling as he drew back. "Anyway, only a person with no sexual interest whatsoever would look at Her Highness and feel nothing. We should all be made to suffer such a duty as that."
"Knave," Davrin replied, and drew Cimar into a kiss that promised they'd soon both be so exhausted they'd likely sleep until noon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grayne finished his quest in desultory fashion, as though it was a chore he was accustomed to fobbing off on servants. That probably wasn't entirely untrue. At best he should have been awarded twenty points, and that was generous.
King Rorlen gave him thirty-five, and Davrin was fairly certain that was only because Korena managed to get through his head how bad it would look if he awarded the full forty.
As the day dawned on the Royal Frost Fair, a long tradition for celebrating the winter solstice, the count stood at fifty to thirty-five, and the great Lindworm Slayer greatly favored. King Rorlen was not remotely amused by the situation, but there was little he could do about it overtly.
Covertly, however, was another matter entirely. He'd already ensured Grayne had only to overcome a gap of fifteen points. Next would be the endurance challenge, and he would be certain to give Grayne every advantage he could.
Davrin's heart believed Cimar could overcome any challenge. His mind, however, honed by years of royal histrionics and courtly scheming, was grimly certain that Cimar would not come out the winner this day.
He dressed with care, even more so than usual, donning a tunic of deep blue that had been embroidered with scattered rowan leaves in icy blue and silvery white, so they looked frosted. It was pure chance the embroidery was rowan leaves, but it worked out far too nicely for him not to put it to full use.
When his hair was up and he'd donned a cloak sure to keep him warm for all the hours he'd be outside, Davrin headed off.