We rode back through Gwydir Forest in the deepening twilight gloom on Arwel, Bleddyn behind me with his left arm tight around my waist, his breath stirring my hair.
We didn’t speak until we neared the edge of the forest, when I put my hand on Bleddyn’s rein-hand.
“What is it, my love?” he asked, still in Cymraeg. I doubt he’d noticed my sudden fluency with all the foofaraw that’d gone down before. And now, since speaking his native tongue was natural to him, I guessed he wouldn’t notice someone else in his Cymraeg-speaking country was speaking the same language.
“There was a place near here,” I began hesitantly, only it didn’t feel like I was saying it. Not quite. “A place where you and I—I mean, you and Gwil used to play tag and hide-and-seek. There was a large, old deadfall covered in vines, and—”
“How did you know about that place?” Bleddyn asked, sounding surprised and amused, even laughing a little. “How did you know Gwil and I used to play there?”
“It’s a long story. But can you take us there, now? Even though it’s getting dark?”
“I could take you there in my sleep, my love.” Turning the horses slightly west, he lead us off the main path.
We arrived in mere minutes. Bleddyn stopped Arwel just outside the glade containing the deadfall and dismounted, helping me down, then leading me to it. I ruthlessly tamped down the memories of nearly dying in front of it and focused on all the memories William wanted to show me of fun times spent near the deadfall camping, playing, and just being with Bleddyn.
“There—see that spot right there?” Bleddyn pointed at a spot a few feet away from the deadfall. The grass there was sparse and rather stunted in comparison to the rest of the ground. I nodded and Bleddyn went on with a chuckle. “When I was ten and Gwil was eleven, we stole a bottle of Cadwgan ap Talfryn’s, er, spirits used chiefly for horse-doctoring. That didn’t stop Gwil and I from drinking ourselves sick on it. That patch of grass, right there, is where Gwil vomited, and I not a minute behind him, in almost the exact same spot.”
“Um, how charming,” I said, wracking Gwil’s memory for a recollection of the incident. I couldn’t find anything close to what Bleddyn was describing and got the mental equivalent of a shrug from Gwil. Was Bleddyn making it up, or embellishing?
“Gwil passed out immediately after, of course. Nearly landed face-first in the puddle of puke he’d made, but I caught him and laid him down. Then it was my turn to be sick,” Bleddyn said with a wistful laugh. “When Gwil woke up well into the next day, he had no memory of anything after noon of the previous day.”
Ah. That would explain it. Even in my past life, I was a blackout drunk.
“The grass there never did grow quite right, afterward. When it grew at all.” Bleddyn sounded almost proud of this fact. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him, wrapping my arms around his waist and kissing him teasingly. He moaned and pulled me close.
We stood there for long minutes, making out in the summer twilight. Bleddyn dropped his hand from my waist to my ass, squeezing and urging me even closer, till I was flush against him. He was, of course, hard. But then, so was I.
It would have been so easy to just get lost in wanting him, as I had so many times before. To just let him bend me over the deadfall and fuck me, even just a few feet from where I—where Gwil—had been stabbed over and over.
But I could hear Gwenllian telling me that if I would tell Bleddyn, I must do it soon. Indeed, I felt some of her urgency sweep through me, as if it was contagious and had lain in wait like a common virus, only to show its hand now.
“Bleddyn, my Bleddyn…” I broke the kiss to say, gazing into his dark eyes. He smiled at me, his heart shining out of those eyes like beacons to guide and give hope.
“Krishnan, my light.”
Embracing him, I sighed. “Don’t you wish to know what it was that I remembered? Aren’t you curious as to what Gwenllian’s tonic unearthed in my soul’s deepest reaches?”
Bleddyn cradled the back of my head with his hand, his other hand on my waist. “I am, of course, curious. But I have little wish to push you or demand of you what you will not or perhaps could not share,” he murmured, kissing my neck. Then he, too, sighed. “I had hoped that in your own good time, you would feel confident in sharing with me what you learned tonight.”
“Oh, Bleddyn, it isn’t a matter of feeling confident. I’m not certain how you’ll take what I must tell you. And I must tell you, for honesty’s sake—for my sake and for yours as well.”
Bleddyn leaned back and searched my eyes grimly. “Then I promise I will listen with an open mind and a willing heart to whatever you tell me.”
I nodded and pulled free of his arms, feeling instantly chilled for their absence, despite the warmth of the summer evening. I walked over to the deadfall, brushed aside a few of the bigger vines revealing the hiding space behind, and smiled.
“It’s as if it was designed with children playing hide-and-seek in mind,” I noted, letting go of the vines and facing Bleddyn, who was watching me solemnly. “Come,” I invited, “sit by me.”
I sat in front of the deadfall in full lotus. Not even a few hours ago, I’d have been wary of doing so for getting ants in my pants and spiders in my hair. But whether it was Gwil’s influence, or I was just far too nervous and overwhelmed with what I had to tell Bleddyn, that thought only crossed my mind briefly.
Bleddyn closed the distance between us in a few strides and stood over me for a few moments, his face hidden by darkness, so that for a few moments, I felt as if a stranger was observing me.
But then he sat next to me, dropping gracefully into tailor-fashion, taking my hand and squeezing it. And this time when I looked at his face, it was no stranger gazing at me, but the man whom I loved more than anyone, whose love had come to define not just my life, but at least one past life.
Well, nothing to it, but to do it, I told myself, clutching at Bleddyn’s arm and leaning against him, my head on his shoulder.
“In my religion, Hinduism, there is a central religious and/or philosophical concept that after the death of the body, the soul or spirit can begin a new life in a new body. Start over from birth until death, birth until death, and so on. This cycle, called samsara, is repeated until the universe itself dies and is reborn. Or until the soul, through its lifetimes of experience, has reached a state of purity and desirelessness called moksha, which is when one achieves nirvana. The word means blown out in Sanskrit, the ancient language of my people. It is literally an extinguishing of the self, the ego, of all desire and want, of suffering and pain, as one blows out a candle. It is liberation from the cycle of death and rebirth, suffering and pain. It is enlightenment.”
I paused here, in case Bleddyn had any questions or comments. There was a long silence before he said. “And when this moksha is reached, and nirvana is achieved, then what happens?”
I smiled. “There is a Zen koan, which is like a riddle or epigram or parable that goes: ‘Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.’ Do you understand?”
I could practically sense Bleddyn’s contemplative frown as he thought it over. “I feel as if I do one moment, then I do not the next,” he finally said, sounding quite put-out.
I laughed. “Well, Zen koans are usually meant to provoke such confusion and thought. It is believed that they are one path of many, to enlightenment. Some other paths are mediation or prayer, for example.” I hugged Bleddyn’s arm. “There’s even chanting.”
“One can sing one’s way to this nirvana, this enlightenment?” Bleddyn sounded equally scandalized and amused. I laughed again, leaning up to kiss his cheek.
“Yep.”
“Astounding,” he said, chuckling, too. Then, before the silence between us could grow too comfortable, I went on.
“Anyway, this is, in part and simplified, what many millions of Hindus and Buddhists believe.”
“Do you believe?”
Not really. Not till today. “Yes,” I said. Then amended. “No, I don’t believe, I know. For I’ve seen with my own heart, that it’s true. We have all lived many lives before this one. Maybe even, as Gwenllian insists, at the same time as this one. And when I drank that tonic, I witnessed one of my previous lives.” I met my freaking previous life, and he did some sort of Vulcan mind-meld thing to me so that now he’s floating around in my head and occasionally taking control of my body and emotions.
Bleddyn’s breath caught. “And, I take it, this is not a common experience, even among Hindus and Buddhists?”
“No, it’s not, though some claim to not only remember their past lives, but to be able to help others remember their past lives, either for vanity or curiosity’s sake, or even as a supposed fast-track to enlightenment.” I snorted. “I was never all that interested in fast-tracking the inevitable. I’ll reach enlightenment in my own time. However I will not be chopping wood and carrying water, one hopes.”
Bleddyn laughed and I smiled in the darkness. “Right. So. This past life I witnessed, I remember it in its entirety.”
“Truly, say you?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And who, pray tell, were you in this other life?”
Here was the moment. I didn’t know what to say. “He was a young man. A young Welshman.”
Bledding was the one to nod now. “Would that be why your fluency in Cymraeg has increased so dramatically?”
Had I thought Bleddyn so inobservant as not to notice that I now spoke Cymraeg like a native? More fool me, then.
“Yes, it is.”
Bleddyn pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “I have known almost since the beginning that despite our many differences, you have a Welshman’s heart, noble and great.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I murmured, and he kissed me again—would’ve kept kissing me had I not sighed my way out of it. “Well, actually, he was born in England, but his family relocated to Wales shortly after his birth, and he grew up Welsh in his heart, if not his lineage.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. And he, too, loved a man. That love came to define him, and it was with him till death and beyond.”
Bleddyn looked into my eyes, his own a mere glitter in the dark. “Beyond? Does that mean that he—that you still love this man?”
“Oh, yes.”
Bleddyn stiffened in my arms. “And this man he loved you back?”
“More than anyone ever has. He loves me truly and well.”
“Loves?” I nodded. “So, this man yet lives?”
“He does.”
“And do you wish to be with him, still?”
“More than I have ever wished anything, Bleddyn.”
Bleddyn looked down, putting a bit of space between us. “I am sorry, then, that he is beyond your reach, lost to another time.”
I reached up and caressed Bleddyn’s cheek tenderly. “But that’s the thing. He is not in another time. He is in this time. Here and now.”
Bleddyn wouldn’t look up at me, when all I wanted was for him to do that. If he looked at me, I could blurt out the truth in one fell swoop rather than continue letting him question his way to it. But he would not look at me.
“He is a good man, brave and true. One of Lord John’s men. And by far, his best, in my opinion,” I said, and Bleddyn nodded yet again, still not looking at me.
“And does he wish to be with you, too?”
“I sure hope so.”
A moment later, my right thumb was wet. A tear drop had rolled down Bleddyn’s cheek. “Then be with him with my blessing, Krishnan, and my sincerest hope that you are happy always.”
My jaw dropped. Whatever capricious whim of mine let Bleddyn think the worst while I played Twenty Questions shattered, and I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes, too. “Bleddyn, there’s something else I must tell you—”
“But know that if ever you need me for anything, I am still yours, heart and soul.” At last, Bleddyn looked up at me, his eyes shining more than the meager light could account for. “Ever will I be your protector and guide, should you have need of me.”
“Bleddyn, I will always have need of you!” I took his face in both my hands now. “I love you!”
Bleddyn’s mouth dropped open, then closed, and he shook his head. “Krish—Master Krishnan—”
I tried on a grin that felt both familiar and strange to me. “I’m master of nothing, Bledd. And you once knew me by another name.”
“Another name?” Bleddyn looked completely confused now. I leaned close and brushed our noses in an Eskimo kiss.
“Yes, my April Fool, another name. One not nearly so exotic as Krishnan ap Karthik.”
Frowning again, Bleddyn looked into my eyes desperately. “Krish, I…I don’t take your meaning.”
I silenced him by kissing him softly, putting all my love, all my yearning and desire into it. Bleddyn, kissed me back with all the desperation and urgency I would expect of a man who thought this kiss would be the last. But this time, he was the one to break it. To stare into my eyes with feverish intensity, clenching my biceps with his hands.
“This man whom you love so, in what year was he born? What was his name?”
I smiled. “He was born April 1st of the year 1597, and his name is Bleddyn ap Rhys.”
And at the speaking of his name, Bleddyn blinked once, another tear rolling down his face as he shuddered violently in my arms. “W-William?” he asked, realization and disbelief, hope and fear warring in his eyes. Then he stared into my eyes with intensity and intent. “Is it…my own Gwil?”
I couldn’t speak for the tears that threatened, so I simply nodded and smiled. Bleddyn studied my face for a few seconds before he reached up and brushed the tips of his fingers down my cheek and over my lips. He let them trail down my throat and chest, and he placed his hand on my heart.
“It has always beat for you,” I managed to say.
“But how can this be?” he whispered. “How is this possible?”
“Because you love me. And I love you.”
Bleddyn licked his lips and the tears fell. “But Gwil is dead. My William is dead.”
“No, your William, your Gwil, is here. He died, and then he lived again. And it was the love we feel that reached out across time and brought us together once more. To finish what we started. Although,” I wondered, “how can we finish something that doesn’t have an end? For never is the day I will stop loving you, and you me.”
Bleddyn searched my eyes some more, this time for a long time, before shaking his head in negation. Then his face crumpled, and he broke down into hitching sobs, pulling me against him and holding on to me so tight I could barely draw breath.
“I love you, Bledd,” I murmured into his hair, stroking it as I held him, laughing and weeping. “Oh, how I love you, my April Fool.”
Bleddyn shook in my arms like a large leaf, or a small earthquake, and laughed in between sobs. “Gwil, my love, my life. I love you, and I never stopped.”
And there we sat, both of us sobbing and laughing till twilight was become night and the horses had begun to stamp and whicker. I laughed one last time and leaned back in Bleddyn’s arms, but only far enough to kiss him. He tasted like tears and happiness.
“Oh, Gwil—Krish—” he chuckled a bit raggedly. “I do not even know what I am to call you!”
“Call me yours, and I’ll be happy,” I said, and I meant it. For in that moment, I finally accepted not only that I could love someone as much as I loved Bleddyn, but that I was indeed William “Gwil” ap Warren.
Actually, noted a soft, amused voice that was fading into the morass of my mind, I am Krishnan ap Karthik. Seeing as I was here first. There’s some as would see no difference, however. Then, the voice was gone, leaving behind only memory and emotion.
Leaving behind love.
I looked into Bleddyn’s eyes and saw the same. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed my palm repeatedly, without breaking gazes. In that moment, I only needed and wanted one other thing. One element to make my happiness complete. To give me the wings I’d always wanted.
“Let’s go back to the castle, husband. Let’s go home.”
Bleddyn smiled, and just like that, I could fly.
*
Back at the castle, we peeked in to check on Gareth, who was sleeping soundly, and then we walked hand in hand to our bedroom just off Islwyn’s office.
Once there, I came over shy. Not suddenly, for it’d been building all the way back from the deadfall. Bleddyn seemed unable to stop staring at me, the heat and passion and yearning he felt for me so blatant, anyone who’d seen us had surely seen it. And I, for that matter, was unused to such a sustained look of worship and wanting, even from Bleddyn. Even the part of me that was still and would always be Gwil found it disconcerting.
As Bleddyn shut the door that opened onto Islwyn’s office and latched us in our bedroom, I put the lamp down on the night table and held my breath. When he turned to me, his eyes burning and intense, I blushed and looked down.
“You are beautiful,” he said softly. “I desire you no matter what form you wear, though I must say I find this form at least as pleasing as the last.”
My blush deepened, and I swallowed nervously, linking my hands together in front of me. “And you are, and have always been my brave and handsome squire. Merely to see you is to find my reason overwhelmed.”
Bleddyn chuckled and approached me slowly. When he was within touching distance, he put his hands on my waist and pulled me close. When we were flush against each other, Bleddyn tilted my face down so we were eye to eye. He made no attempt to hide how hard he was. “Never doubt that I love you, Krishnan.”
And as if my name was a shibboleth, my nerves vanished, and I smiled at Bleddyn. He pulled me closer and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and soon, he was backing me toward our bed.
In a matter of minutes, we were undressed and writhing against each other, Bleddyn clearly torn between stroking me off and retrieving the salve from the night table. Neither of us could stop giggling and hushing each other. Finally, I smacked Bleddyn’s hand away from my cock and looked into his eyes. “I want you inside me, Bledd.”
Bleddyn made one of those hoarse groans, as if he was about to come, even though I’d barely touched him so far. He scrabbled in the night table for the salve, nearly tumbling us off the bed in his haste. I laughed and brought my knees up to my chest.
Downstairs in the hallway, the great clock struck nine. And by that ninth resound, Bleddyn prepared me with efficient, reverent fingers, brushing my prostate and putting pressure on it till I was a moaning wreck, my head tossing on the pillow, tears leaking from my clinched-shut eyes, and biting my lip almost bloody. In the silence that followed, all I could hear besides my own moans and the blood pounding in my ears, was Bleddyn’s murmured praise and encouragement.
Then, just when I thought I couldn’t bear being teased anymore, Bleddyn withdrew his fingers and shifted closer to me, pushing my legs wider apart. As he braced himself above me, I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me, tears in his eyes again.
“I love you, my light. Even more than I once did, if that is possible.”
I let go of my left leg for long enough to brush my fingertips down Bleddyn’s cheek. “And yet still only a fraction as much as I love you.”
Bleddyn kissed me once more. Then he pressed me down into the bed and, with one quick, sharp thrust, he was past the guarding ring of muscle, driving himself to my very core.
Never once did our locked gazes stray until we stilled, on the cusp of our climaxes. I threw my head back into the pillow, eyes shut once more, and Bleddyn buried his face in the hollow space between my shoulder and my neck, and gasped. And then the universe died and was reborn in the same explosion of light and color.
When reality had resolved itself once more into our dim, shadow-splashed bedroom, I sighed happily. Bleddyn kissed me anywhere and everywhere, rolled us over and arranged us into our usual sleeping positions, pulling the blanket over us.
Smiling to myself as he kissed my damp hair and squeezed me to him tight, I sighed again as my body shivered and tingled with orgasmic aftershocks, and we lay in silence for a while. But then curiosity got the better of me, and I dared to shatter the afterglow by speaking.
“Bledd?”
“Hmm?”
I turned my head from where it rested on his shoulder, and looked into his sleepy, sated eyes, made lambent by the dreamy, dim lamplight. He smiled at me, reaching up to caress my cheek ever so gently. I leaned into his touch. “May I ask you something? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if talking about it pains you, but I was just wondering…”
“Yes, my light? You may ask me anything, and I will answer as truthfully as my knowledge allows,” Bleddyn said, and I bit my lip for a moment.
“All right. But first I want you to know I’m not jealous or envious, angry, or resentful. If anything, I’m glad about her, because it meant you had someone, for a little while, anyway. And then, there’s Gareth, whom I couldn’t love more if he was my own son. And—”
“Krish,” Bleddyn interrupted me, smiling wryly. “Krishnan, would you like me to tell you of Rhiannon?”
“Yes, please,” I answered, nodding, blushing, and looking away. “I just—she was there for you when I…I couldn’t be. And she gave you a beautiful son, something I can’t do. I’m glad she did. But no one ever talks about her, even when I try to be sneaky and worm information from them. I think they don’t want to hurt my feelings or make me feel insecure about my place in your life. But the thing is,” I said, looking up at Bleddyn again. “The thing is, I don’t feel insecure, and it won’t hurt my feelings to know that you had someone who loved you, and whom you maybe loved when I couldn’t be there with you. So, I suppose what I’m curious about is, did Rhiannon love you? And did you love her?” I asked, anxious for and fearing the answer at the same time.
Bleddyn’s smile turned wistful and sad. “Yes. She loved me and I would have had a heart of stone not to love her in my own way. She was comely and fair, innocent and gay. She was kind and beloved by all who knew her, and I believe you would have loved her, too.”
If Bleddyn believed, then so did I. Which only made me sorrier for the loss of this woman I had never known.
“She was impossible not to love. I was still in despair over losing you, but Rhiannon was able to shine a small light into my heart. To bring a little joy into my despair.” Bleddyn sighed, and I snuggled closer to him.
“Were you in love with her?”
Another sigh. “I loved her. Very much. As you said, she was my companion when I had none. I would have died for her, if my dying would have prevented hers. But I did not desire her. I lay with her as part of my marital duty and as a duty to my father and our line. I did not yearn for her the way I yearned for you, Gwil. Though it shames me to admit it, I’d have given her up a thousand times over to have had even one more hour with you.”
“Oh, Bleddyn…”
Bleddyn’s smile firmed a bit. “But that is neither here, nor there, I suppose,” he said. “I loved her as best as I was able to, with my heart in tatters. Then, when Gareth was born, it was as if my heart began to mend.”
I grinned. “Gareth has that affect on people. He’s a marvelous child.”
“A miracle child,” Bleddyn amended, frowning just a little. “He was born frail and sickly, almost too weak to nurse. Even Gwynedd didn’t think he’d last a fortnight. But Rhiannon never gave up on him. She barely slept, caring for him. And she only ate so that she might more ably nurse him. She fought harder for the life of our child than any man on any battlefield I have ever seen. And she won,” he said, sounding rather proud and more than a little awed, “though it was many months before he was well enough that she dared sleep through the night, rather than hover over his cradle, watching him in his poor, fitful slumbers.”
“She sounds formidable and very caring.”
“She was both. She reminded me more than a little of you. And I think that’s part of why I loved her so. When I lost her, too, the only thing that kept me from taking my own life in utter despair was Gareth. He deserved a better father than I’ve ever been, but I’m the only father he’s got. I intended to do the best I could to see his life was a good and happy one.”
“And you’ve done admirably, Bleddyn. I’ve never seen a happier child,” I promised. “How…how did she die?”
Bleddyn blinked and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost comically, but it did nothing to dispel the shine in his eyes. “’Twas poison.”
I gaped. “But…but who? Why?”
“’Twas none other than ill-fortune that killed my good wife.” Bleddyn closed his eyes for a few moments. “She loved blueberries, you see. Especially in her morning porridge. One morning…” Bleddyn shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing again. “One morning, I sent one of the kitchen girls to pick fresh blueberries for my Rhiannon. The girl was young, barely old enough for the responsibilities she had. She could not tell the difference between the blueberry and nightshade plants. The berries of the former are, of course, harmless. The berries of the latter—”
“Oh, my God.” I covered my mouth and closed my eyes, sorry I’d even asked. That I’d dredged up this nightmare for the man I loved. “Bleddyn, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—”
“She was ill within minutes of eating her porridge. She did not even finish it before the delirium had begun. By the time Gwynedd came to our chambers, Rhiannon was fully delirious and fainting. By evening, she was dead. Most horribly dead. As was the poor child who’d picked the berries, for she’d ingested some herself.”
Tears leaked from my eyes, and I wiped them away, hoping Bleddyn wouldn’t notice. “I’m sorry, Bleddyn, my Bleddyn…sorry you lost her so terribly.”
Bleddyn hugged me closer and kissed my temple. “It is not me for whom sorrow should be felt, but for my poor motherless Gareth. If only he’d known her longer. If only she’d lived to see him grow into such a strong, fearless child.”
He fell suddenly silent and lay back, looking at the ceiling. I placed my hand over his heart. “She sees. She watches over him and over you, I think. She’s your guardian angel. And she’s proud of you both.”
Bleddyn covered my hand, then pulled it to his lips to kiss it. His face was wet with tears, and when I sat up and pulled him into my arms, he didn’t protest. He simply held on to me like I was his only lifeline.
“I lose everyone I love,” he whispered. “Everything I love is taken from me. Am I cursed?”
“Baby, no. Of course not!” I kissed his hair and rocked him the way he’d rocked me earlier at Gwenllian’s cottage. “The ones we love don’t really leave us. They live forever in our memories and our hearts. And in time, we meet them again and again. So, no one is ever really lost. Not really. Sometimes, our paths diverge for a little while. But in the end, they always come back together.”
Bleddyn shuddered. “But the times of separation are unbearable.”
“Only because it seems like it’s permanent. But the trick is knowing that no separation, not even death, is permanent. Even if we both died right now, some day in a future neither of us can imagine, we would meet on a crowded street and be floored by the perfect stranger whom, it seems, we know better than ourselves.”
Bleddyn sighed and looked up, his face a wet, red, miserable wreck. I wiped away tears that were instantly replaced by fresh ones. “If I knew that tomorrow, we were to be separated for a long time, perhaps even by death, you know what I would say?”
He shook his head no, and I smiled. “I would say, ‘I love you, husband. I’ll see you next time.’”
Bleddyn drew his brows and he blinked, but this time, no more tears fell.
“Is it truly as simple as that?” he asked, hope and fear warring in his eyes.
I nodded. “More or less.” I held his gaze and smiled. “I know now, there’s an eternal love, like I’ve never known, waiting for me throughout the rest of time. I just have to find it, and until then, keep hoping. I think I can do that. Can you?”
Bleddyn’s pensive face grew more so as he thought it over. Finally, he nodded.
“Yes. I can. I would do anything to be with you. Even go on for centuries before I see you again.”
“And I’d do the same.”
Bleddyn took my face in his hands and kissed me. Softly at first, then with increasing passion and intensity, till he was pushing me to the bed and rolling on top of me. I spread my legs, my thighs were bracketing his hips so we could grind against each other frantically, without coordination, till Bleddyn urged me onto my stomach.
It wasn’t a marathon screw, far from it. It was quick and desperate and incredibly hot. I was moaning and groaning so loud, I’m certain the whole castle heard it, and Bleddyn called me his light and his love, his Gwil and his Krish. His hands were bruising-tight on my hips—I really did have hand-shaped bruises in the morning—his pace pleasantly punishing and practically perfect. I was hoarse from yelling by the time he gave me a reach-around. All he did was stroke me once, and I went off like a firecracker. Then he came moments after me, hissing and hollering.
The dead silence that followed was unbroken by any noise, save the sound of flesh impacting flesh when Bleddyn collapsed on top of me, and the harsh pant of our breathing. By the time Bleddyn pulled out of me, our sweat had cooled and dried, and the stillness of the castle no longer seemed so preternatural.
Without speaking, we curled up on our sides, spooning, and lay there in the semi-darkness, listening to the quiet and each other’s breathing. I fell asleep to Bleddyn nuzzling the nape of my neck and stroking my flank.
If I had dreams, they were good ones.