| |
“At any other time, I would heartily approve bringing new staff in for training,” Valin groused. “But not now. Not with him in tow.”
Yandro sighed his agreement. “Lord Jareth’s timing isn’t always perfect after all,” he murmured.
“And when it isn’t, it can be egregiously horrid.”
Valin all but snatched up a sheaf of documents from his desk and stalked off to meet with the three newly arrived staff members. Yandro watched the trio as they received their instructions for the day. The first two listened carefully and had the sagacity to ask questions to further clarify what was needed of them. But Gawyn Caerzon at once claimed full understanding of his tasks. His scrunched up features while Valin spoke to him indicated otherwise.
Yandro shook his head. Apparently, Gawyn was still stalled at the level of ability he’d possessed when he joined the staff, which had not been impressive to start with. It was annoying to put it mildly. While his peers had worked hard to improve their abilities and prove their capabilities, Gawyn seemed content to remain in the figurative dark.
Of course, he could afford to be complacent about his prospects. Nepotism would enable him to retain employment and all but guarantee advancement through the ranks. But, saints above, did he have to be so obvious about it? Yandro sighed once more, this time in frustration, and left to tend to his own assignments.
He supposed he should have expected changes of the sort. They always occurred no matter where Jareth was sent and even when the ambassador was not on foreign assignment. Besides, he personally agreed the best training ground for new staff was in foreign environs.
Not only did a posting abroad force one to quickly learn one’s way around international politics, it also served as an intensive screening process that helped Yandro discern who would be an asset to the staff and who was better suited to be a paper-pusher back home. Hence Jareth’s decision to summon all four new staffers to Myare. The one who’d traveled abroad before could hone his skills further while the other three would perforce learn the tricks of the trade so to speak.
Yandro had thought himself highly adaptable to any situation, an ability anyone connected with the corps had to acquire if he were to last the course. Unfortunately, he’d found his adaptability not always equal to the task of coping with the staff’s least educable member. Veres help us, if only he was difficult to teach because he’s truly lacking in intelligence, Yandro thought. But, nay, it’s his attitude that’s the problem. He doesn’t think he needs more edification.
This was not surprising if Gawyn had been coddled all his life and led to believe himself far better than he really was. And Jareth’s inexplicable leniency served to further puff up the insufferable Deir and make him more resistant to instruction. Indeed, he only showed interest in learning when it was Jareth who instructed him, which prompted the ambassador to take him under his wing more often than not. In turn, that cut into the time Jareth had once set aside to keep company with Yandro in and out of bed.
Yandro reached his desk just outside Jareth’s office door. He plopped down on his chair, stricken with dawning dismay.
It was now three days since Jareth last shared his bed and almost a fortnight since he’d taken an opportunity to seduce Yandro during work hours. Considering the previous frequency of their trysts, this slowdown was disturbing. Was Jareth’s ardor cooling? Was he tiring of Yandro so soon?
“Nay, the ambassador prefers brandy,” he heard Gawyn saying. “He only takes cordial after meals.”
He turned his head and saw the Deir correcting Valin who had instructed the staff messenger to purchase more liquor for office pantry.
“And how do you know that?” Valin asked.
“He told me so,” Gawyn said a touch superciliously. “And by the by, he doesn’t really like those iced buns you’ve been serving him.”
“Oh? He never said so.”
“He just doesn’t want you to go through the trouble of looking for what he likes. It seems it’s not readily available this far south.”
“Really,” Valin said, his voice virtually dripping with sarcasm. “Pray tell, what does he like then?”
“Jam rolls! Cranapple jam specifically,” Gawyn promptly replied. “He’s always liked those. They were his favorite childhood treat and he told me having them when he’s on assignment makes him feel at home.”
“Indeed. Well, I’m sure there’s a bakery hereabouts that makes cranapple jam rolls.”
“And don’t forget the brandy. Roseberry preferably. And maybe Asmaran rum too. He told me his brother Lord Hadrana favors it, so if he visits and he said he probably will since—”
“He tends to do so when His Excellency’s posting is in Vihandra,” Valin cut in.
Gawyn blinked in surprise. “You know that already?”
“Anyone with an observant eye would.”
“Oh, I see. Well, he’ll be pleased if we can offer his brother some.”
Valin’s alarmingly raised eyebrows indicated his readiness to explode, but he only said, “Cranapple jam rolls, roseberry brandy, and Asmaran rum. Is there anything else he told you?”
“Oh yes!” Gawyn blithely answered, oblivious of Valin’s barely contained ire. “He said he was thinking of having his bedchamber in Rikara refurbished in shades of blue. And, oh, he told me it’s time he changed his bed for a larger one. Something about not wanting a separate apartment from his spouse when he weds. Ooh, I wonder when he plans to—”
Valin interrupted, his eyes wide with distaste and reproof. “That’s a personal confidence!” he chided. “Such things aren’t meant to be shared!”
“But he didn’t tell me not to,” Gawyn said with a pout.
Valin rolled his eyes. “I warrant His Excellency assumed you know what stories to keep to yourself.” He raised his hands in front of him and backed away. “Go, finish the report. I need it before the day ends.”
He turned on his heel and quickly walked away in an obvious bid to forestall Gawyn from blurting out any more of Jareth’s secrets. Yandro returned his gaze to the parchment before him. But he saw nothing. After several more unproductive moments, he put a hand to his forehead, closed his eyes, and exhaled.
It hurt like the devil that Gawyn knew things about Jareth as trivial as his taste in sweets and drink or as intimate as his plans for his bedroom suite back home. It hurt because Yandro had not known. Had never been the recipient of such confidences.
He’d known for a while now that Jareth shared personal information about himself with Gawyn. More than once he’d overheard Jareth and Gawyn in conversation and it had taken him aback to hear Jareth relate large swathes of his childhood and early years in the diplomatic corps to Gawyn when he had mentioned only bits and pieces to Yandro. And he encouraged Gawyn to talk all he wanted about his life, showing an interest in the Deir’s family, upbringing, and school years.
Yandro did not recall being asked about his days in the orphanage in such detail save for that one instance and only then because of Jareth’s horror that Yandro might have been abused in his childhood. Nor had he been invited to recount his struggles at university where True Blood students had made life difficult for him.
It galled him to realize Jareth was willing to share so much of himself with someone he barely knew, yet keep so much from the Deir he was presently bedding. And it ate away at Yandro’s confidence in himself when Jareth seemed so invested in Gawyn’s progress to the extent he allowed him a greater margin for errors and gave him opportunities to further his training. He had done neither for Yandro when he was first assigned his adjutant or any other new staffer for that matter.
He now wondered if Jareth felt more for Gawyn than protectiveness and the indulgent fondness of a mentor. Perhaps he only sleeps with me because he does not wish to embark on an affair with someone that young and fresh, Yandro had taken to thinking on nights Jareth did not visit him. Or perhaps he felt Gawyn did not deserve to be propositioned by his superior. But if that was the case, what did it make Yandro?
A substitute? A mere consolation prize? He did not know which depressed him more. Or caused him the greater pain.
––––––––
Yandro wondered what the others in the embassy would think if they ever saw him thusly. On his elbows and knees, hot face pressed into a pillow to smother his cries while a formidable shaft plowed deep into him from behind, each inward slide reminding him he belonged to one Jareth Hadrana, preeminent ambassador of Ylandre.
He had known a strong, almost irresistible attraction to Jareth from their first meeting and suspected he would one day weaken in his resolve and fall under the ambassador’s spell. That Jareth might also feel that pull and act on it had been no more than a wild dream and denied hope on his part. But now both dream and hope had come true. A truth that was impressed on him whenever they came together in bodily union.
Jareth had ensured Yandro would never forget he’d once been owned so thoroughly even if the reason for that ownership was no more.
His lover’s fingers sensuously mapped his torso, caressed the plains of his belly, and teasingly snaked down to stroke the tops and sides of his straining thighs before one hand crept toward his shaft and began to stroke it with maddening gentleness. Moist lips and a wicked tongue roamed his back from his nape and the sides of his neck down to the expanse of skin between his shoulders. And all the while, sleek, hard flesh relentlessly cleaved him and nigh filled him to bursting.
Yandro moaned helplessly and shuddered with delight with every thrust. He clutched the pillow so tightly he feared he would punch holes into it with his fingers. Veres preserve him! He would be deliciously sore and likely too noisy for comfort by the time Jareth was done with him.
“Are you well?”
The softly voiced question impelled him to lift his head and look over his shoulder at his lover.
“I am,” he managed to say. “It’s just that... we might be heard.”
He gulped when Jareth’s eyes lit up and his mouth turned up into a knowing smile. Jareth suddenly leaned forward and kissed him hard. He gasped against the ambassador’s lips and found his mouth summarily invaded. The thrusts up his backside quickened while the strokes on his shaft roughened. He whimpered as the spiraling pleasure sharply expanded into imminent release.
With a ragged gasp, he broke free and turning his head, hurriedly pressed his face into the pillow once more.
He shamelessly spilled himself into Jareth’s hand, his sobbing cries mercifully muffled by the pillow. Jareth stiffened against his back for a moment and then nigh slammed into him, groaning harshly as he did. Yandro closed his eyes when he felt the gush of liquid warmth into him. It was more evidence of Jareth’s utter possession of his body and, all unknowing, mastership of his heart.
After they caught their breaths, Jareth gently shifted them onto their sides. And as Yandro had come to expect, he did not pull out. Yandro sighed at the now-familiar sensation of Jareth’s not quite depleted shaft lodged inside him. He’d learned only an explosive orgasm could render the ambassador too spent for another round of lovemaking. Yandro was no longer surprised to awaken in the morning still joined to his lover after a whole night’s worth of couplings.
He felt the press of lips against the side of his head. Jareth nibbled gently on the rim of his ear before leaving a trail of love bruises from the crook of his neck to his shoulders. Gentle almost chaste caresses that Yandro knew were a mere preface to passion unleashed anew. He would need to cushion his arse the following morning if Jareth’s lust was not quenched after a second coupling.
It was times like these that led him to discard his misgivings and believe he was wasting time and energy on worries that had no basis in truth.
“Yan?”
Yandro half turned his head at the husky murmur. “Hmm?”
“Did I mention Tenryon is coming here this week’s end?”
“Nay, but I heard of it from someone...”
Yandro stopped and frowned. He’d heard it from Gawyn during the latter’s conversation, or rather inappropriate gossiping, with Valin earlier in the day. His misgivings returned though he strove to suppress them. Just because Jareth had told Gawyn first did not mean Yandro was less of a confidant.
“Who told you?” Jareth asked.
“I wasn’t told directly,” Yandro replied. “I heard Gawyn informing Valin that he might visit soon.” After a pause, he added, “He also mentioned there were things you wanted that we weren’t adequately providing. I do wish you’d told us we were remiss in this.”
“Remiss? What in Aisen have you failed to provide me?’
“Oh, jam rolls and the brandy flavor you favor most.”
“You feel guilty for not providing me with such mundane things?”
Yandro suddenly felt silly. They did sound mundane. But not the rest of Gawyn’s gossip, he remembered with renewed irritation.
“Are you planning to wed soon?” he softly asked.
“Wed? Where did you get that notion?” Jareth sounded surprised and baffled.
“Gawyn mentioned you wanted to refurbish your bedchamber back home. In shades of blue, he said.” Yandro hesitated. “And also that you were going to get a larger bed because you don’t want separate bedchambers for you and your spouse.”
“He told Valin?” Jareth’s voice was sharp with dismay. “How many heard?”
Yandro tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Those nearby. Three, maybe four others.”
“I can’t believe he—” Jareth exhaled with what seemed like exasperation. Yandro hoped it was. “Saints above! That was said in confidence.”
A welling of hurt nearly robbed Yandro of speech. Well, that certainly confirmed just who it was Jareth talked to about private matters.
“Valin said the same thing,” he muttered tightly.
Jareth went still behind him. He did not respond at once. After an awkward silence, he murmured, “Do you resent my telling him these things?”
Yandro stiffened. “Why should I?” he replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. “It’s your right to share what you want with whoever you wish.”
Again, Jareth fell silent. Yandro wondered whether he had offended him and would now perforce spend the rest of the night alone. But Jareth did not withdraw from him. Instead, he pulled Yandro even closer.
“I didn’t intentionally tell him and not you,” he quietly said. “We were talking about our Rikara homes and it slipped out in the course of our conversation.”
Yandro did not know what to feel about Jareth’s explanation. On the one hand, it was heartening Jareth had made the effort to assure him he had not deliberately left Yandro in the dark. But then, it also confirmed that Jareth shared much with Gawyn that he did not with others. Unwitting or not, this still put Gawyn several notches higher than Yandro when it came to openness and the sharing of secrets big and small.
“I’m not upset if that’s worrying you,” Yandro lied. “As I said, it’s not for me to dictate what you can speak of with others.”
He did not like uttering falsehoods, but he did not want his lover to learn the full extent of his hurt. While Jareth desired exclusivity for the length of their liaison it was only sexually. If Yandro attempted to claim his emotional fidelity as well, the ambassador might well balk and decide he did not care to be stifled thusly. Yandro had long resigned himself to the inevitability of their affair’s eventual ending. But he hoped to put off that day for as long as possible.
He felt the slight brush of Jareth’s consciousness against his, a sensation he’d since recognized as the ambassador’s way of reading him without breaching his shields. Jareth could not know the content of his thoughts this way, but he would sense the intent behind them. He would know Yandro was not being truthful though not the extent of his dissemblance.
The probe was gentle and thus not uncomfortable. Yandro did not resist it. But he did not give in to the implicit appeal to yield his thoughts either. It would leave him too exposed. Defenseless against someone who held every weapon that had power to bring him so low, he would not find the strength or will to rise again.
At length, the faint touch of their minds ended. Yandro heard Jareth sigh.
I wish you’d trust me more.
The thought caught Yandro by surprise. He knew Jareth could and did communicate thusly even at great distances; had witnessed him engage in mind-speech for official purposes as well as personal. When undertaken in the privacy of the mental plane wrought by lovers, it was deemed the most intimate means of semantic communication. He had not experienced it yet for though he was not mind-blind, neither did he have the power to initiate the silent speech of adepts nor had he expected anyone to do so with him. He could not help but wonder if Jareth had every conversed this way with Gawyn.
Nay, we haven’t. There’s just you, Yan.
Yandro looked back at Jareth, his cheeks warming in embarrassment that his lover had caught the unworthy thought. Biting his lower lip uncertainly, he tried to respond through his thoughts as well.
Thank you. I’ve oft wondered what it’s like to speak like this.
You only had to ask. I’d have indulged you.
I didn’t think it... proper.
But being buggered on a conference table is?
Jareth!
Or letting your superior fuck you until you can’t sit straight?
Veres help me...
Yandro smiled however. It was partly because of his lover’s lubricious humor, but even more due to the warm feeling derived from learning that in this matter at least, he was the first and only recipient thus far. He was not so noble as to refrain from feeling gleeful he’d been chosen over someone else, most of all Gawyn. He glanced over his shoulder at Jareth once more, his eyebrows drawing close in mock exasperation.
You know what I meant.
And you know what I want.
Yandro gasped when his shaft was suddenly gripped. He moaned as Jareth steadily stroked him while he repeatedly thrust into his arse once more. Caught up anew in the magic of Jareth’s pleasuring, Yandro forgot his fears and suspicions and for the night at least allowed himself to believe his hopes and dreams within his reach.
––––––––
Tenryon Hadrana was scheduled to arrive at midmorning the first day of week’s end. Rather than be late meeting the Herun on the highway leading to Rovena, Yandro decided to leave the chancery a good half hour beforehand. Better it was he who waited rather than the fief-lord.
As he headed for the stairs, he passed Gawyn as the latter hurried to his desk. He was reading a letter with apparent excitement judging from his wide eyes, reddened cheeks, and restless manner. Yandro paused in his stride and looked curiously at the Deir. Gawyn appeared pleased by whatever was in the letter. One might even say smug.
He was about to turn toward the stairs when he heard his name called. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled when he saw Jareth approaching him.
“You’re rather eager to meet my brother,” Jareth remarked. His eyes twinkled and he added in a lowered voice, “Should I be suspicious?”
Yandro chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve heard a more preposterous contention. Nay, I’m only allowing for the traffic along the main road. It’s market day. You know how crowded it can get with all the carts and wains coming and going this morn.”
“Ah, that slipped my mind. It will indeed be slow-going on the main road though hopefully not so much by the time you return. You’d better get going then.”
Jareth’s flirtatious wink brought some warmth to Yandro’s cheeks. He was reminded once more of just how he’d passed the night and why his gait this morning was less smooth than usual. Thank Veres he was not suffering from so sore a backside as to prevent him from riding out to meet Jareth’s brother.
As he descended the stairs, he heard Gawyn’s faintly exclaimed, “Lord Jareth! May I have moment of your time? I would like to consult with you on something.”
Jareth replied, “In an hour.” This was followed by instructions to Valin and other staff.
Yandro frowned all the way to the entrance hall. What did Gawyn want to consult Jareth on? Did it have aught to do with that letter? And if it did, why would he need to talk to Jareth about an obviously personal matter?
A hint of foreboding weighed down his heart then. It was ever so when Gawyn sought Jareth’s attention and especially when he did so in private. But when he stepped out of the embassy onto the cobblestone courtyard where his steed waited, Yandro reminded himself it was none of his business.
He slipped on his professional mien, mounted his steed, and rode out the chancery gate.