The Rusted Sword Read Online Free Page B

curled his other hand over the back of Moshe's head, unable to quell the slight clench of worry. When he did, Moshe's expression of disdain only broke for a moment, his gaze warming, and he looked close to dropping the whole farce, but then his countenance hardened again.
    Raleigh, however, was all too close to losing his breath. His mouth was dry, his heart beating rapidly. For as long as it had been since they had lain together, it had been even longer since they had played one of their games. Leaning in, Raleigh pressed his face against Moshe's neck and licked his warm skin, dragging his tongue up. He heard Moshe gasp, felt the grip tighten around his wrist.
    He pulled back, his head tilted. "Does your lord and husband still repel you?"
    Moshe glared at him. "You are swine. You are the dirt beneath my boots, you kidnapper—mph!"
    Raleigh smirked against Moshe's lips, clasped the small of his back and pulled him in. That line Raleigh knew all too well, had heard it when it was sincere—when he was fifteen and had roped Moshe up and taken him to a beautiful spot by the river Raleigh had discovered on his own. He had wanted to share it with Moshe, and only Moshe.
    Feeling nimble hands clutch the front of his vest, Raleigh squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, holding Moshe as close as he could. His cock throbbed with need, and he felt Moshe's hard against his thigh. He loosened one hand to reach down and cup Moshe's length, massaging it gently as Moshe panted and thrusted against Raleigh's palm. "Oh, oh, " was all Moshe was able to say.
    Exhaling with amusement, Raleigh released him, and then bent to grab him and lift him up. Moshe quickly circled his hands around Raleigh's neck, hurling curses at Raleigh at a fiery pace.
    "There, there," Raleigh said, heading for the bed. "I can be gentle, if you earn it."
    Everything was thrumming—his soul to his toes, even his heart. He had Moshe in his grasp, had Moshe flushed and aching. This had been Raleigh's fantasy for so long, as he had watched Moshe practice down in the courtyard of Chaylain. His own husband, and yet Raleigh feared to touch him. But now …
    He would steal one last kiss, and then he would dump Moshe on the bed. He would strip Moshe, and flip him over and—
    "Ah."
    It was said with the smallest of breaths from Raleigh's lips.
    But the pain. It was a thunderbolt straight from his knee to his spine, and then everywhere. His entire body seized.
    "Raleigh?" Moshe said, his eyebrows pinching together. He sounded a little breathless with how tightly Raleigh was holding him. When all Raleigh could do was grimace, Moshe struggled, dropping down to his feet. "Raleigh?" he said again, grasping Raleigh's upper arms.
    Raleigh wished it was gone—that tone in Moshe's voice, that … what was it? That warble, that weird inflection that drove a spike straight through Raleigh. "It's—" Raleigh started, swallowing with great care, and then finished, "—nothing."
    Moshe was silent, and for a brief respite, Raleigh thought he could just pretend that this was not happening, that he had not witnessed yet another crippling moment of weakness. But then that grip tightened, and he felt Moshe breathing close to his neck—for that was as high as he could reach—and kissing his collarbone. "Raleigh," Moshe said softly, "Let me … please let me, I asked the physician how to massage—"
    "No," Raleigh growled, pushing him away. "There is no need."
    He could not look at Moshe. It hurt his heart not to do so, but his pride … To have Moshe take care of him while he was lying invalid, that would be a breach of all he had implicitly promised Moshe when they wed, when Moshe had finally given in to Raleigh.
    All Raleigh could do was stand immobile. "Go and entertain Frederick," he said, jaw clenching. "No doubt he would enjoy that."
    "Raleigh—" Moshe said, the tone of his voice edging towards irritation.
    "Do what I say."
    The air was taut with the frustration between them. Moshe just