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There are certain memories I have of the fool that have taken on a life of their own inside my head. Moments from decades ago, little things that all stack together to feed the deep emotion I feel when I so much as think of him. Us as children, him as pale as a cloud as he fed me the tongue twisting prophecy that would save Feisty's life. A night in the mountains, splashing in a stream with Nighteyes, all of us letting go of our cares for just a bit and reveling in our youth. Him rejoining my life seamlessly after more than a decade and a half of absence. The admission of his feelings for me and the resulting strife between us. The healing of his body and his rebirth in my arms. Our separation, and the memory of his absence. His sudden reappearance in my life and what my impulsive actions almost cost his already broken body. Amber's painted face and the gentle touch of her fingers on my arm. My near-death, and my rebirth in his arms thanks to my daughter’s insistence on healing me even when the coteries said there was no hope against the Traitor's Death.
All this and more melded together to feed feelings that I dared not give a voice to for decades. I had tried to bury it all, convincing myself that what I felt for him was nothing more than a man's love for his oldest and dearest friend and for a while, I had believed it. I truly do love Molly, and a part of my heart will always miss my wife and long for her touch once more. But I had also gotten to a point in my life where I could no longer deny what I felt for the Fool. Even after decades of friendship, and having a bond so strong that it defied even death, I had only gained the sense to put a name to what exactly I felt for him when he nursed me back to life after the parasites had ravaged my body.
I recall with little enthusiasm the condition that I was in when my family had found me in the Stone Garden. I had been resigned to my end, as long as it was brought about by becoming one with the Stone Dragon – Wolf, actually – that I was determined to carve. They had still believed that I could be saved, but those hopes largely dried up when the skill healers determined that the damage done to me was irreparable. My rescue mission had quickly become a death watch, but even when everyone else had given up on me, my Bee was determined to find a solution. And that she did. To my great luck, she was Skilled beyond any of our imaginations and her brilliant, stubborn mind concocted a plan that saved me. Despite its great recklessness, I was not even mad at her. I could not have been. Would I not have done the same for anyone that I love?
I do not remember much of the months that followed, only that the Fool, or Lord Chance as he was now, had insisted on being by my side throughout all of it. The worms had already done extensive damage, and despite them now being gone my body had already been destroyed nearly beyond repair.
I was later told that Lord Chance had studied so much about the human body during my convalescence that he may have made himself the best healer in the Six Duchies by the time I was healthy. And indeed, his actions had supported that theory. My heart had stopped at one point, and Lord Chance was the one who had somehow restarted my pulse. For weeks, I would randomly stop breathing in my sleep, and he had racked up many sleepless nights staying up to breathe breath into me if I needed it. He was the first face I saw every time I came out of a seizure. He was there when I woke in the middle of the night, delirious and agitated from pain. He fed me broth when I was too weak to hold a spoon. He helped me as I learned how to walk again, and rubbed my aching feet afterwards. He kept his patience with me when I lost my temper over how weak and frail I was, then teased and jested until he got a smile out of me. Nobody had done more for me since Burrich had brought me from man to wolf and then back again.
Eventually I healed, and then went back to court as Prince Fitz. It didn't take much longer for me to figure out what the ache I felt in my chest at not constantly having the Fool by my side meant. He had become synonymous with safety and comfort for me. I found myself pining, and realized it was the same feeling I felt when Patience tried to separate Molly and me all those years ago. Being around him had always made my heart lift and triggered a deep sense of completeness and satisfaction within me, but now there was an added layer of what I could only describe as attraction to him. If I was to be completely honest, that added layer had always been present, but it was buried under my fear of what the consequences would be if I ever acknowledged those deviant feelings. Alas, I was no longer strong enough to resist them, and finally I admitted to myself a truth I had denied for decades. I was in love with the Fool, and all that was a part of him.
So it was that I had become more open in my displays of affection towards Lord Chance. I smiled as widely as I wished at his flattering remarks, and we were known within the court to engage in banter that became borderline flirtatious at times. Rumors had spread, as they tended to do, but there was no one presumptuous enough to directly confront either of us regarding a scandalous rumor about a Farseer prince. At least, no one who wasn't a Farseer themselves.
Kettricken had summoned me one day, and I had a strong suspicion I knew the reason she needed to see me before the page even finished delivering the summons. Sure enough, our conversation was at first casual but meandered to the gossip surrounding me and Lord Chance. I had said nought to anyone about my feelings for the Fool, but Kettricken let out a gasp when she saw the way my face changed when she mentioned him, and I knew I had been made. Later she would tell me that she figured it out because I had looked just like Nettle did when someone mentioned Riddle before they had both chosen to love each other despite the wants of the crown.
Tears came to both our eyes as I explained all the Fool truly meant to me, out loud for the first time. Thankfully, she was her ever accepting self, and her only wish was that we both stayed safe, as not all would understand that we had no control over affairs of the heart like this.
Not long after my confession to Kettricken, I had come to notice that my public relationship with Lord Chance seemed dampened, almost tense. Gone was the amicable jesting and flirtatious dialogue, replaced with only the strictest manners suggesting no relationship to me beyond him being a guest of my family’s court. He seemed to be trying to make himself a stranger to me, and was hesitant to meet my eyes even when I spoke directly to him.
The final straw for me came after a fortnight of him ignoring my evening invitations to unwind over a glass of brandy by the hearth. It was a tradition of ours to meet at least once every week to simply talk like the old friends we were. Now he had denied me this, and I longed for his easy companionship. He was one of the only people at Buckkeep that spoke to me simply for the joy of my company, without any ulterior motives to advance his social status or get closer to the King or Queen. We had always managed to find time for each other, and the now distant attitude was beginning to have an impact on my temperament. I was short with servants, and quite less sociable than appropriate for a prince. Admittedly, my actions were not unlike that of a spoiled child. But I was lonely. I wished my friend closer to me, but he stayed away from me as if I was made of fire and him made of ice.
One night, I decided I had had enough of being alone. He had left me behind many times over the years- always for my own good according to him- but I could not bear the thought of him slipping away from me once again. Whatever the issue between us was, I resolved to fix it before the sun rose.
I summoned him to my chambers, instructing the page to emphasize the urgency with which I needed to see him. In truth, there was no particular rush, but I believed that if he thought it was merely a social call he would delay.
Minutes later, he came bustling into my chambers, brows furrowed in worry.
"Prince Fitz. What is the matter?"
"Leave us," I dismissed the page I had sent to summon Lord Chance as well as a few other servants that mingled in my chambers, and locked the door.
"Is it a concern with Lady Bee? Or," his face darkened, "have you any issues with your healing from the parasites?"
"No Fool, I am fine, and Bee is fine, it's just," I decided to cut straight to the point. "Is there something going on with you?"
His eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, my Lord! I apologize of any of my actions have been displeasing to-"
I scowled. "Yes, your actions have been displeasing! "My Lord"? We are the only ones here! Now please, I wish to speak to the Fool, not Lord Chance."
A hesitant look crossed his face, and then his shoulders slumped as he dropped his façade. He rested himself on the foot of my bed, and looked up at me with my Fool's eyes.
"Well?" I questioned.
" "Well" what, Fitz?" His voice was sturdy but tired, as if he was steeling himself for a conversation that he did not want to have.
"Well, why have you been so distant as of late? Why do you speak to me like I am a stranger and not your closest friend? Have I offended you somehow?" I was unable to keep the hurt from entering my voice.
His face was apologetic as he shook his head slowly. "Oh, Fitz. No, nothing like that, but..." He wrung his hand as he spoke, and then placed them flat on his thighs as a resigned look came over his face.
"Well, I am sure you have heard the rumors. The speculation surrounding Lord Chance and the Prince, and what they get up to with each other." He looked at me, an unreadable look in his golden eyes as he continued. "I vividly recall the trouble that befell us when last we dealt with rumors of that nature. I simply chose to make things easier for us by doing as little as I could to feed the gossip."
Of course. It was the same tactic he had used all those years ago, when the speculation about Lord Golden and Tom Badgerlock had come to a head, and I had told him, quite rudely, that I had no wish to be associated with him that way, neither by rumor nor in truth. I also recalled that he himself had taken no issue with the rumors, content to just ignore them. He had only changed his stance once I had expressed my displeasure at them. I realized he had wrongly assumed I would be similarly displeased this time around, and had tried to stem the talk before it could escalate into something I could possibly confront him about.
"I give no importance to their words. I do not care what gossip is passed around in the kitchens as the cooks work," I said, easing myself down next to him.
"That may be because you do not know how deeply the gossip has taken root, my friend." He said. He smiled bitterly. "So widespread it is that the words of the cooks now carry weight even within our family. Lady Kettricken passed by me in the halls some days ago and stopped to offer congratulations and well wishes, saying that she was delighted to hear that we had finally settled down with each other." A strange look came over his face. "She seemed to believe you were quite in love with me."
I thought back to my conversation with Kettricken. It dawned on me that even though I made my feelings known to her, I may have been somewhat vague in clarifying the actual nature of my relationship with the Fool. I had never mentioned that he was unaware of the depth of my feelings, nor that the rumors were not actually true. Given that she had summoned me to discuss the rumors that said Lord Chance and I were romantically involved, and I had confessed that there was indeed a romantic attraction on my end, her jump to the conclusion that the gossip was valid was almost understandable.
I looked at the Fool. A golden eyebrow arched slightly at my lack of response to the information he had just given me. I supposed he had expected me to have a change of attitude and display a stronger reaction than my casual way of approaching the gossip surrounding us. However, I was not thinking about any of that at the moment. I was instead considering taking the opportunity that Kettricken provided for me with this misunderstanding to confess my feelings to the Fool.
"No time like the present, little brother," Nighteyes’ voice chimed in.
A burst of wolfish courage came over me, and before I had the opportunity to second guess myself, I spoke.
"I do love you."
He blinked, then rolled his eyes. "I’m aware of that, Fitz. But we both know she meant more than simply – ah, how did you put it?- “ ’as man loves his closest friend’. ” There was a slight mocking tone to his voice.
I cringed. My words were causing too many misunderstandings lately.
"That’s not what I-" I sighed. "I was the one who told her that. She is right, Fool."
He stiffened, and his voice was flat and face unreadable as he asked, "what do you mean?"
I longed to reach for his gloved hands, but he was holding himself so still and careful that I could not read him, and did not know how he would react to my touch.
I took a deep breath. "Kettricken asked me about the rumors, and I- I told her that I was in love with you."
My words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, mere seconds.
"Why would you do that?" He asked, his voice so calm and cold it chilled me.
"Because I-"
"To mock me? To make fun of my feelings for you?"
To my surprise, his unreadable expression morphed into a horrible look of pained betrayal.
“What?" I was alarmed.
"Fitz. You know what I feel for you. And you made it clear to me a long time ago how you feel about that. I respect the boundaries you have placed on your love, and I have made peace with the fact that I will never have your heart the way I want to. So why would you say that and give credence to such a rumor, something that is already so painful for me to hear, knowing that it is, and will forever be, false?”
The hurt in his voice made me ache. His eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped, as if he wished to curl in on himself. I began to regret my decision to steer the conversation in this direction. No, now I regretted even summoning him to my chambers. In fact, maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut and not been so deeply honest with Kettricken in the first place. Would not my life have been easier if I had continued to love him in secret?
No, I realized. It would not. Loving him in secret had meant sleeping alone in a bed too big for one, while my mind dredged up memories from long ago of how he felt in my arms at night. Keeping this secret had meant Dutiful continuously giving me discreet nudges to court this or that noblewoman in order to form trade links or strengthen alliances, but the only woman I was interested in at this point was Lady Amber.
There was no place for regrets. I had to finish what I had started.
I reached out and touched his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but did not move away.
"Fool?" I said. "Fool, look at me."
He twisted his body to face mine slowly, but did not lift his gaze. I removed my hand from his shoulder and placed my fingers against his chin, tilting his head to urge his eyes to meet mine.
"Please, look at me." And he did.
His lips were pinched into a thin line, and his eyes shone with a mix of hurt, anger, and rejection. I wanted to hit myself for making him feel those dark emotions. I pieced my words together carefully, praying that my tongue would not put me in any more awkward situations for the night.
"Fool," I began. "Beloved. Trust these words that I give to you, for they are the truth. I love you. I feel for you as you do for me. Our queen may have taken liberties in her understanding of exactly what we are to each other. But she is perfectly correct in her belief that I am quite in love with you."
The darkness was gone from his eyes, replaced by what seemed to be a reluctant hope. Just as quickly, he tamped it down, and hesitation crossed his face.
"Fitz, I fear I may be misunderstanding."
"May I kiss you?" Forward, yes, but I was sorely tired of misunderstandings.
His mouth fell open slightly, and his golden eyes widened. For the second time that night, he seemed to freeze. He seemed to barely even dare to breathe. I felt my blood still in my veins as I awaited his response. Then, he exhaled a low whisper of "yes". My blood began to flow again.
I kissed him. His lips were hesitant against mine at first. He tasted of apricot brandy and something else, something sweet and delectable that made me want to keep my lips on his for eternity. Our mouths moved together, my lips against his in the ways I had wanted for so long, and ways he had wanted even longer.
He pulled away for a split second and looked at me as if to make sure I was real. Then, his eyes glazed over with something darker, and this time he kissed me. I moved closer to him to deepen the kiss, and was surprised when he threw his arms around my neck and ran his fingers through my hair. I was glad to see that he seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was. I could not get enough of him, and chased the feel of his cool mouth on mine even as my lungs began to burn from a lack of oxygen.
Against almost every impulse of my body, I drew away from him so I could breathe. He was a lovely sight. His skin was flushed. His lips were pink and shiny from my kisses, and I longed to kiss them again. I pressed our foreheads together.
"Have I made it a bit clearer for you?" I said, my voice low and husky.
"I believe I am beginning to understand, yes." He flushed a shade deeper.
The corner of his lips quirked upwards and I could not help but to recapture them with my own. His arms tightened around me at the same time my hands grabbed his hips and pulled him into my lap.
My arousal surged to life at his weight on my thighs. Slowly, I began to recline, and he chased my lips down until he lay on top of me. There we lay, our bodies pressed together as I tasted every inch of him that I had access to - his mouth, his jaw, his earlobe, his neck.
In an uncharacteristically bold move, the Fool disposed of the glove from his unsilvered hand to slip his long, chilly fingers under my shirt and explore the planes and bumps of my chest. I let out an involuntary moan against his jaw as a finger swiped over my nipple. He smiled at the sound, and then moved his hands to tug at the laces on my shirt. His normally lithe fingers fumbled with excitement, and he gave a quiet, sheepish chuckle at his own clumsiness. I smiled at his laughter, then lifted my hands to help him. We both dissolved into quiet laughter as our fingers tangled together around the laces at my throat. He managed to untangle me from my shirt and latch his lips to my neck, his petting gone heavy without the barrier of my clothing.
All over me his hands roamed, leaving my skin tingling in their wake. He slotted his body between my legs and worked his way down, leaving kisses against the center of my torso but stopping short of the clothed hardness between my legs. He seemed hesitant then, as if he was unsure he would be allowed to take the next step, to move us along from simply kissing and touching to something much more. It was too much to wait, and so I leaned up and stripped the lower part of my body bare of my trousers and smallclothes. The simple friction of the fabric against my sensitive hardness as I stripped was enough to pull a hiss from me.
I lay myself back down on the bed. He had leaned back on his haunches to give me space to strip, and now his eyes drank me in hungrily. At my worst, my body had been severely emaciated, and though I had steadily been growing healthier, my build was nowhere what it had been before the infestation. My Fool seemed to have no qualms about what I was lacking, however. His gaze on me was intense and he seemed almost mesmerized by the sight of my nude body in front of him. My arousal throbbed almost painfully with want for his touch.
"Fool, please." I tried to sound encouraging, but I fear there may have been more desperation in my voice than anything else. I was unsure what exactly I was asking for, but at that point, there was nothing he could have done that would not please me, and he seemed to know as much. My words were all the prompting he needed, and he rose to hover over me. My body tensed with hunger for what he was to offer. He ran a curious ungloved finger down the side of my body, from my neck, past my chest, then my hip, then my thigh, right down to my ankle.
Then, his long, slender fingers ghosted their way back up my legs slowly. His touch was light, almost as if I was something delicate that would disappear from right under his hands. Even through his unsilvered hand, I could feel not only his arousal and anticipation, but also something more adoring - almost reverent. Underneath the haze of my lust, it dawned on me that I had almost never been touched this gently. The thought created a sudden lurch in my chest, my heart overcome by the unfamiliar tenderness of his touch.
His gloved fingers ghosted their way over my thigh, and in their wake followed his lips, placing the lightest of kisses on the skin. He made his way higher and higher, until his thumb rested on the jut of my hip bone.
"May I?" He questioned, eyes glancing down to my weeping manhood and then back up to meet my eyes. Throat gone dry, I swallowed, and managed to eke out a hoarse "yes".
Speaking frankly, I was no stranger to oral pleasure. Starling in particular was quite adept at it, and Molly had the pleasantly naughty habit of surprising me on her knees sometimes in shadowed corners of Withywoods. But there was nothing that held a candle to the feel of the fool's mouth engulfing the first few inches of me. He took a few seconds to adjust and accustom his mouth, and then he began to go to work on me. I am only slightly ashamed to admit that I was nearly made undone by the very first twitch of his tongue. Slowly, almost hesitantly at first, he christened me with a series of kitten licks interspersed with enthusiastic sucking. Something in him seemed to change as my body reacted and he realized how much I was enjoying this. His confidence increased, and with that, the movements of his tongue and the depth of his throat seemed to increase as well, until I had one hand grabbing on to the silk sheets with a white knuckled grip and the other gently tugging at his flaxen hair in rhythm to the bobbing of his head. He seemed to have a notable disregard for the body's need for oxygen, and distantly I wondered if his skill as a singer had anything to do with it.
So we went, until my world and thoughts began to shrink to a singularity, nothing outside of me and him and the bliss that was creeping up on me. The feeling of him between my legs was beyond explanation in human terms, but suddenly I wanted more. I felt like I needed more.
"Wait," I breathed, "Wait."
He removed his mouth from me and the loss of contact stirred gooseflesh under my skin. He looked up at me, and his eyes were hungry. His light skin burned a pale, beautiful red underneath- whether it was from shyness or exertion I couldn't tell.
"Is everything okay? I'm sorry, did I-"
"No, everything is okay, I just-" I hesitated. I was suddenly aware of every boundary the Fool had ever established between us over the course of our friendship. His refusal to be seen nude jumped to mind first, followed by his overall insistence on his privacy. A memory of a long ago quarrel surfaced, where I had said horrible things, things that were completely contrary to my current wants and actions. I felt I was about to ask for something that I had no right even bringing up. The Fool had more reasons than I could enumerate to deny a joining in that way, especially with me. The very thought of a rejection stung me, and I found it had less to do with my ego and more to do with the possibility of moving too fast and ruining this new, amazing thing we had between us.
Would it be worth it, to take it that far?
I looked at him. He was clearly eager to continue, his pupils blown and face flushed, yet his eyes were brimming with concern at my sudden hesitation. I recalled some past words of his; time and time again he had sworn he would never take anything from me that I did not freely give. Was he, like me, worried that his approach was too forward, and that he was taking something he should not have?
I pulled him up towards me, so that we sat side by side again. I kissed him softly and tasted the saltiness of myself as our lips met. I cupped his face with one hand and neck with the other, and tried to pour my reassurance into those touches as I drew back from the kiss to look him in the eye.
"Fool," I began, "I would like to get closer to you, if you'll let me." I found it was the best I could do, not too forward but not too convoluted as to make my meaning unclear.
Ever a master of being indirect, he caught my meaning instantly. I felt the muscles in his neck tense as what I was asking sank into his mind, and then he met my eyes.
"Fitz. Are you quite sure?" He seemed uncertain about my certainty, which is a far kinder response than I deserved given the ways I have tended to approach his feelings for me over the years. At this point, though, I was more than certain, and all he really needed to do to know that was to look down. However, if he needed to hear it from my mouth, I had no qualms about giving him that.
"My Fool, I have spent my whole life hiding and giving up parts of myself to please other people. It has never done me any good." A peck to his lips.
"You are a part of me that I never want to hide, and there is nothing that could make me give you up," I whispered into his neck, then raised my head to kiss just under his ear.
"I want you, Beloved. I am sure."
He shuddered at the use of his name, and then whispered, " Alright. Have me, then."
The new rush of heat in me was near instantaneous. My hands began to wander under his shirt as I eased him down on the bed to kiss his neck. I took unexpected delight at his small moans and the hitches of his breath as I nipped at his skin, the wolf in me awakening a possessive streak. "Mine," I thought, thinking of the red and purple marks that I could make on his pale, slender neck, that could trail down and disappear under his collar the next day.
With his permission I disposed of his shirt, and took stock of the treasure I was beginning to unearth. Giving him my strength in Clerres had completely healed the physical damage caused by the Servants' torture. Nevertheless, he still carried a few superficial scars from minor mishaps and whatever other antics he had gotten up to after he had set sail from Clerres. These I kissed, and thought "beautiful, beautiful" each time my lips pressed against his skin. I knew I would have found him beautiful regardless of any scars or damage he carried, but thinking of how badly they had hurt him and how desperately he wanted to heal made his now relatively unmarred skin all the more sweet.
My lips and hands followed the planes of his body down to the top of his trousers. I placed a few light kisses upon the skin that sat above his waistband before looking up at him. I knew he had given me consent to go all the way, but I was unwilling to take any aspect of what he was allowing for granted. I touched his waistband and met his eyes.
"Can I..."
He only nodded, but it was quite vigorous and I felt almost bashful at his enthusiasm over me. It had been a while since anyone had been so deeply enticed by the idea of bedding with me, and it made me feel young and green again, as if I was stumbling through the delights of joining with someone for the first time. I suppose, in a way, it was a first for me.
I heeded his nod, and took the opportunity to simply drag down his smallclothes along with his trousers. I saw the goosebumps rise on his skin at the rush of cold air passing over his suddenly bared flesh.
His bared flesh.
Never before had I found such beauty in the more intimate aesthetics of another man. I had admired women's bodies, as any young man does. I had also appreciated the bodies of some of the soldiers stationed at Buckkeep during my time among them - from a distance of course, and only in the way that I assumed every man appreciates the assets of his peers. But the person that lay before me was beyond all that.
Admittedly, my mind had tried on multiple occasions to conjure images of what the Fool would look like unclothed. Particularly over the past few months, the ever present curiosity combined with my newly acknowledged feelings for him created the perfect environment for such thought to flourish, particularly in my dreams. Many a night had I awoken and had to immediately slam up my skill walls in the specific way Verity had shown me how all those years ago, lest other skill users become aware of the way my body chose to handle my attraction to the Fool. Yet, my dreams were nothing compared to seeing him uncovered before me in wakefulness. I felt the impulse to touch him, to commit to memory every inch of his cool, pale flesh, perhaps first with my hands and then with my mouth.
I leaned down to kiss his thigh and a breathy whimper escaped from him as my head brushed against his sensitive, and, I realized, neglected arousal. Bared naked in front of me, the view of it, pink and shiny with anticipation, was enough to awaken mine to new heights. I took him in my hand and moved upwards to lay my lips on his. He moaned into my mouth as I worked my wrist. His moans soon turned into panting and I slowed my motions, still mindful of what our ultimate intentions for the night were.
"Fitz, I need- " his voice trembled. I could tell that he was trying to express similar thoughts to the ones I was having. Admittedly, though, I was somewhat hesitant. I was by no means a stranger to intimacy, but my experience was limited to women. I sheepishly admitted as much to him, and was only a little affronted when a slightly amused smile appeared on his face.
I must have appeared more upset by his smile than I actually was, for he wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed my lips to his softly, then deepened the kiss for a moment before pulling back and saying, "Worry not, Beloved. I do not mind showing you how these things are done."
He unwrapped his arms from my neck and nudged me off of him. He rose from my bed, and I took the opportunity to appreciate the leanness and litheness of his body as he made his way around to the chest at the bottom of the bed. He shifted it's contents once, twice, and then came up with a dark green glass bottle with a stopper wedged in it's mouth.
Oil. A fancy scented bath oil he had obtained on one of his many trips to some exotic corner of the map and had carried back as a gift for me.
He moved back towards the bed. As he reclined, he rested the bottle beside him. I resumed my previous position over him, and he reached out for my face with his gloved hand. We kissed, long and slow, and I moved slowly against him to grant both our erections a bit of the friction they desired.
At last, he reached for the bottle and uncorked it, its heady scent filling the room. I watched as he prepared himself, using the oil and then utilizing his own fingers to prepare his entrance. He took one finger, then two, his face scrunching up at first before melting into unmistakable pleasure. I watched his hands and the movement of his fingers, observing how he dealt with himself just the particular way he liked, how his eyelashes twitched against his cheeks as his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. Seeing him like this, my need to touch him overcame me and I placed my hand on his leg, beneath which he continued to work at readying himself. His eyes fluttered open and as they met mine, I eased my hand down, down, down until it met his, and slowly, keeping my eyes on his the whole time, I offered up a third finger to him.
He cried out softly, and his eyes widened for a second before they slipped half-shut, desire clear on his face and intensifying after I replaced his other two fingers inside himself with mine. His fingers dug into my shoulder as his lust heightened, and I kept my pace until he breathed out his readiness to me.
"I’m ready," he panted, "Take me, Fitz."
I removed my fingers and lined us up.
Entering Beloved felt like coming home. Never had I felt so much like I belonged with someone than when I slipped inside his warmth. I felt his wet heat grip me, the tightness of him like confirmation that yes, this is in fact where I should be, always.
His back arched as I eased inside of him and his long, artful fingers scrambled for purchase on the bedsheets. Every move from him jerked against my manhood, and my body begged for more friction. Instead of acting on that impulse, I instead gave Beloved's body a chance to adjust to my size and girth, taking those moments to cherish the feel of his body around me. I leaned over him, kissing wherever I could reach, greedily trying to pull as many moans and groans and breathy calls of my name out of him as I could. I kissed all across his chest again, leaving my marks to let the world know that he was my mate, and if ever they should try to cross him, they shall have to deal with me first.
I wanted Beloved so badly I felt I could go mad from it.
I unlatched from the pink rosebud of his nipple and gripped his hips. Slowly I began to move, testing the waters and changing the way I moved based on his response.
He was true to his word about showing me how things were done, and I followed every directive of "faster," "deeper," and "more," until even those words had dissolved into nothing but deep, breathy moans.
His body took me beautifully, each thrust in and out feeling like the dawn of a brand new day. And oh, how ethereal he was, spread out on my sheets, perfect skin glowing with the light from the hearth, with a look on his face that said there's no place he'd rather be, nothing else he'd possibly want to be doing but making love to me just like this, just like that, yes Fitz, like that.
I moved inside him, and hit that perfect spot that made his toes curl and his hips lift off the bed as if to pull me closer to him than we already were. I targeted that spot, and drank in every sweet gasp that left his mouth. I felt him clench around me as his climax built inside of him. I continued to move, my heart jumping in anticipation of how divine he would look as he came undone. I knew he was near, and I watched him closely with the intention of taking in every detail of his face so I could commit that moment to memory.
Somehow I needed to be nearer to him, feel more of him against me. I ceased my movement to bring him up from the bed and onto my lap, where our chests would press together and I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. Still, that was not enough, even after a stroke of my hips that touched a place inside Beloved that was so good he swore in Mersen. His gloved hand tangled itself into my hair, and at that point the solution to my problems showed itself.
"Your glove," I breathed. "Take it off."
A look of hesitation mingled with the lust on his face.
"Fitz- "
"Touch me, Beloved, Please." I was desperate for the contact, just as desperate, I think, as he was to give it.
He drew the glove off, and his silvered fingertips touched the triple ovals on my wrist. For a split second my ears roared, and everything around me went pure, blinding white. And then, it was as if the world itself shifted, such that everything around me gained new definition and life. My skin buzzed at each place where it met Beloved's, and i could feel every thought and sensation that passed through him.
How to describe the joy of loving, and being loved in return? How to explain the love and the bond you share with the one who is closest to you in every way a person can understand, and in ways that many can't understand?
I felt his love pour into me. Rich, fresh, and pure, it gripped me, and I nearly choked on the intensity of being loved so fiercely. His joy flowed into me, mingling with mine and settling into a pool of ecstatic disbelief that this was actually happening, that we were granting each other something we both feared the other wouldn't want to give. Our very essences intertwined, and I felt the brilliance of him wrap around me.
He was me, and I, him. There were no boundaries, no limits between us. We were complete.
His pleasure built and I felt it, intense and raw and magical. He gripped my wrist with one hands and threw the other around my neck, drawing my face to his and connecting us with a sweet, desperate kiss. Then, a moan of "Beloved", and we were both gone over the edge, simultaneously falling and flying and being frozen in this one perfect moment - everything all at once. The sheer ecstasy was unbelievable, so good as to defy anything I thought my body could ever experience. I felt exposed, as if parts of me I didn't even know existed were being granted a piece of this pleasure for the first time. El and Eda, there was nothing that could ever compare to this. Having him like this, knowing him like this, letting him know me like this. From his grip on my wrist, I could tell he felt much the same. He practically glowed golden with pleasure. Being known this deeply and earnestly was overwhelming to him, and so I did not question the fall of a crystal clear tear from his eye. I myself was overcome as well.
I felt my pumping release fill the warmth of him, and held him as his undoing painted his stomach with pearly white stripes. I withdrew from inside and then kissed him, swallowing the last of his pleasured moans from his lips, and then simply sat with him in my arms until the quivering of his thighs ceased and our heartbeats slowed to normal.
When he caught his breath, he extracted himself from my hold to go clean himself up, and I did the same. My skin was still warm from the exertion and I decided not to bother with clothes. I returned to my bed and drew a light blanket over myself, laying in wait for the Fool to join me. Soon after, his soft footsteps approached the bed. His skilled hand was regloved but he was otherwise unclothed. I lifted one end of the blanket in an invitation. He accepted, and lay beside me.
Our bodies fit together like magnets. It felt almost instinctive, the way his head fell into place underneath my chin, his face tucked into my neck, and how our arms encircled each other as if we feared the other would get up and walk away.
I thought back to all the other times I had held him in my arms over the years. It had always been when he was sick or hurt, I realized. I pondered on all the opportunities we might have missed, the times when we were too stubborn, or stupid, or simply too unsure of ourselves. The times when I was too selfless, and put the wants and demands of others before what I wanted for myself.
Well, I was now choosing to be selfish. I was choosing my Fool, regardless of any consequences, regardless of the rumors, and regardless of whatever noblewoman Dutiful hoped to try and pair me up with next. I would deal with the fallout when I had to. The concerns of the court could not touch us here. In this bed, holding each other, no trouble nor stress could reach us. We were safe. Whole, I heard Nighteyes supply faintly from somewhere.
With that thought, I slipped into an easy, dreamless sleep for the first time in months.
*
I woke slowly, a welcome change from the jolting out of nightmares that I was used to. Through the haze of my awakening, I registered thin beams of sunlight through the curtains. I also sensed the weight of someone else in my bed, pressed into my side. Waking up with another person beside me was a now unfamiliar feeling, but as my mind cleared and the memories of last night began to return in bursts, my breath caught in my throat.
I opened my eyes and looked at the head pillowed on my arm, and no, it was not a dream. My Fool slept on, his golden hair spread out like a halo around his relaxed face. His hand was flung out on my stomach. As youths he had always tended to rise before me, and so I had never actually seen him like this. He had only slept around me otherwise when he was injured or ill, and then he always seemed to be fighting some sort of pain, his face wrinkled in discomfort.
Now though, there was a peaceful openness on his face. Awake, he always had to be carrying out some sort of act, but in dreams, he was nobody but himself, my Beloved. I longed for my hands to roam the planes of his face, to trail my fingers down his sharp nose, to trace the twin peaks of his upper lip. Alas, I was reluctant to wake him, and I was content enough with just staring and absorbing his beauty.
“Fitz.” My name fell off his lips like a prayer. His mouth twitched upwards, and he seemed to be enjoying himself in whatever dreamscape he traversed.
I rolled onto my side and put my free arm over him, bringing us closer and pressing my warmth to his coolness. Without rousing, he did the same, until we were wrapped around each other like a single being. I could hardly tell where he started and I began.
“I love you.” He muttered, his breath a rush of air hot against my bare skin.
I felt my heartbeat flutter, tumbling round in my chest as if to mimic the object of its affections during his days as a jester. I smiled.
He loves me, he says.
And I love him.