Fifty
thousand tears I’ve cried
Screaming,
deceiving, and bleeding for you
And
you still won’t hear me
Maybe
I’ll wake up for once
Just
when I thought I’d reached the bottom
I’m
dying again…”
I
Fennick shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his brushy tail twisting and curling against the horse’s smooth, hot flank in protest to the cramping pains in his buttocks and thighs. He was not so accustomed to riding as to be able to sit a horse most of the day every day without his body wailing. He gritted his pointed teeth and stilled the flicking of his tail as Falcon trotted past, glancing at him coldly. Falcon was no more used to horses than Fennick, but his stern and stoic nature did not permit any sign of displeasure or pain to reveal itself to the others, and Fennick was determined not to seem any less strong than his brother.
Sighing softly, Fennick hummed quietly to himself and focused on the beauty of the lush forest around him, something he’d never seen before three days ago. The great oaks and elms spread wide branches and huge leaves in a cathedral ceiling a hundred feet above the riders, leaving the forest floor deep and cool in shadow with sprinklings of dappled sunlight dancing like faeries on the occasional patch of berry bushes or sweetly-scented flowers.
Squirrels scurried up the massive gnarled tree trunks to leap about above in great sport, and would pause now and then in their pursuits to shake their tails and chatter angrily at the Knight’s invasion. Mice and other small animals rustled through the ground cover, and once a fat badger waddled across their path, seemingly so intent on his destination he did not notice the horses’ hooves falling around him. Deer and elk were plentiful and unafraid, watching the Knights with dark, liquid eyes as they paused in their browsing. They had seen no other humans since entering the woods three days ago.
Fennick held all of this natural beauty in awe. He had never seen trees that were not stunted, twisted, and leafless, or such abundance of birds and animals, or a land so rich with fertile soil and clean, clear water. His mind boggled with all the possibilities that lay on the ground around him. Soon, he thought resolutely, I will begin to make myself a good ash bow with deer sinew, and a set of hawk-fletched arrows with real steel tips. Then a hide and oak canteen, and a new shirt. How cheap everything must be in this land! His thoughts lead his eyes to the richly clothed and adorned figure riding stiffly in front of him, a vision wrapped in finely dyed leather, linen, and wool.
Fennick sucked in his breath sharply, feeling blush stain his cheeks a delicate rose and his loins tighten before he dragged his eyes away from Kendel Trent’s firm, straight back, golden braid, and the enormous ancient sword crossing him diagonally from hip to shoulder. Kendel had joined them just three weeks ago, and since the first Fennick’s lust, love, and longing for the emotionally-distant beautiful warrior-boy had grown exponentially, surprising even Fennick with its feverish intensity and shaking need. He no longer trusted himself to sit near Kendel, nor speak with him.
If only I could be assured he would take it well, Fennick thought hopelessly, Just with understanding, if not with returned emotion. But… Ah, damn, I am so sure that the code that he follows would not allow it; the church he obeys preaches it an abomination. He would hate me, and of all things, I could not stand that.
So intent was Fennick upon his own misery that he did not notice the little straw-thatched inn sitting along the trail in its own lake of sunshine until his horse broke into a bouncy trot, eager for the stables, a good rub, and some oats. Thorn reined in and dismounted, and the others followed. Fennick gave a sigh of relief, and rubbed his lower back with one rough hand as he led the horse into the stable.
Once the horses were rubbed down, fed, and watered, the five men went into the inn, and Fennick glanced around with great curiosity at the cobble and wood walls and the abundance of wooden furniture. A young lady came out from behind the counter and bustled about them like a clucking mother partridge, then flounced into the back to fetch their food and drinks as the men gratefully sank down into the well-padded chairs around the hearth.
Fennick nestled into the embrace to a great rearing velvet throne and curled up, his tail around his delicately furred ankles, too tired to even give their hostess a second glance. He stared moodily into the fire, then shook himself as he felt himself falling into a stupor of sleepiness and turned his gaze to his companions.
Bayolin and Thorn were talking quietly to each other about their rendezvous with Randall, their voices a soothing background murmur. Falcon was already up and prowling the room, pacing back and forth and jerking his tail fitfully as though he was angry, though Fennick could see nothing to upset him. Kendal was staring at the fire as Fennick had just been, his blue eyes distant and dreamy, the lines of his face slack and peaceful.
Fennick’s bright green eyes paused there hungrily, soaking in the details of the other man like bread soaking up milk. Kendel’s booted feet were up on the hassock in front of him, and his long, lean legs were crossed. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair and his head was propped on his hand, with strands of his fine, silken hair curving past his jaw to fall against his wrist. He had—for once—removed the large antique sword from his back, and it hung in its scabbard from the back of his chair. The light from the flames flickered over his china-pale skin, giving it a golden glow and setting his hair alight with an inner blaze. Fennick’s eyes stumbled over of the folds of his worn-soft cotton shirt where it fell around his slender waist, then over the skin-tight suede breeches outlining Kendel’s smoothly muscled thighs to the tops of his dark green leather boots. Fennick sucked in a breath and swallowed hard, while his mind chased its own tail in a stupid circle of desire and self-recrimination and his stomach rolled over sickeningly. He frowned and bit at his lip with cat-like pointed canine teeth.
Kendel turned at the soft inhalation to look back at Fennick, and the sand-cat blushed faintly as he was caught staring. His tail flicked rapidly in agitation. Kendel’s own eyes narrowed as he studied the other man openly for a moment before turning back to the fire silently, a faint rosy flush marking his cheeks as well.
The food arrived then, dished out to the small, low wooden tables that rested between the comfortable clusters of chairs. Falcon finally sat down beside Thorn, though Fennick noticed that his brother kept glancing his way with a suspicious and irritated look on his face. Fennick reached out and placed choice bits of food on a plate before settling back in the chair to eat, his glass of wine half-finished after one desperate gulp.
Fennick was so engrossed in his food and quelling his riled emotions that at first he did not notice that Kendel had not even spared the food a glance. The blonde warrior remained unmoving, the reflected flames dancing in his eyes, and Fennick licked his hand-pads as he set his plate down, his head cocked quizzically.
“Ken…Kendel?” He gestured at the plates. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Kendel turned, his gaze immediately meeting Fennick’s questioning eyes and causing another blush. “No,” he answered, then looked away again, seemingly indifferent. “I cannot eat, thank you.”
Fennick wondered what that meant and how far he could push the older man’s patience before Kendel left the room. Kendel never seemed to get angry; when confronted about something he didn’t want to discuss, he either sank into himself and refused to talk or sought out solitude. He picked up a warm bacon roll and waved it temptingly. “C’mon, Ken. You have to keep your strength up, and the food is really good. You should eat something.”
Kendel shot him an irritated look, his lips pressed into a thin pink line. “I cannot, thank you,” he said again firmly, trying to close the issue.
Fennick waved the roll again, then sighed plaintively. “This is another one of your ‘honor’ things, isn’t it?” He flicked his tail. If that were the case, it wouldn’t matter if Kendel starved, so long as he didn’t break his word to himself and defile his flawless honor.
“I am punishing myself for breaking the Code,” Kendel said softly. “I deny myself comforts I do not need, and I am still weak. Steel must be forged from slag.”
Fennick bit his lip again and pressed his ears back, setting the roll down to be forgotten on the table. Kendel already knew what Fennick thought of the Code and his honor as a kutari, and the sand-cat had no wish to rehash that particular argument again, though this again reinforced his opinion that the Code was stifling, antiquated, and presented unreasonable demands on those that would follow it and call themselves kutari. He was almost certain that this was not the first time this week that Kendel had skipped a meal or had ritually shed his own blood to atone for his Code-breaking, and upon closer inspection, Fennick noted that Kendel seemed tired: his eyes were bruised with weariness and his jaw was held tense.
Fennick forced his ears forward and a nonchalant expression to his face, and he shrugged, sliding a wineglass across the low table with an outstretched paw-foot. “You may not eat, but you say nothing of drink… which—certainly!—even kutari masters must do.” He returned his paw-foot to his seat and watched Kendel curiously.
Kendel looked at the dark ruby liquid, and then at Fennick warily, waiting for some sort of rude or out-of-place comment or a trick. After a moment in which neither man moved, Kendel picked up the glass and sipped at it delicately.
Fennick grinned to himself.
“Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies
So I don’t know what’s real and what’s not
Always confusing the thoughts in my head
So I can’t trust myself anymore
I’m dying again…”
II
Kendel sipped at the wine, hating himself for feeling gratitude for the warmth of it sliding down his throat but continuing to drink anyway. Fennick was correct; he was allowed to drink during a cleansing fast. While there was a rule prohibiting the imbibing of alcohol, Kendel did not feel like fighting more with the stubborn young sand-cat about why water was allowed and wine was not. The results of previous fighting (on any topic) had been less than satisfactory for both parties.
Also, though he was loath to admit it, Fennick was right about needing to stay strong. His repeated fasts and blood-letting over the last four days had left him feeling dizzy, sick, and weak, and after a day’s full ride, he found his muscles fluttering rapidly with exhaustion. He’d almost even fallen out of his saddle once. He’d lain to sleep at night under the peaceful whispering oak leaves and woken soaking in sweat and panting, chased from sleep by demons of his own devising.
Kendel sensed Fennick’s emerald eyes upon him once more, and turned away toward the fire, the empty wineglass still clutched in his hand. He could not bear the concern written clearly in the other’s wide, guileless gaze. It is his fault anyway that I have to do this, Kendel thought bitterly, his brow and jaw tensing as he forced himself to stare blankly into the dancing flames. It is him; it is his fault, his perversion, his tempting, his…The blonde warrior’s thoughts pulled into an aggravated snarl of guilt, blame, and hatred.
Kendel set the empty glass down suddenly and picked up another, with sharp, precise movements, still avoiding the curious worry stamped upon Fennick’s gentle boyish features. How he hated that expression! How he hated everything about the sand-cat, from the bare bronze chest to the sweep of his tiger-striped tail, from the tips of his pointed ears to his strong, furred digitigrade feet! How he hated the feverish flush that spread over his own face in response to Fennick’s physical presence! He threw his head back and gulped the ruby wine down furiously, the edge of the glass hitting his teeth hard.
He stayed still for a few moments, then curled his face against the cool velvet of the chair. He felt his tightly clenched muscles slowly relax and the anger pounding a vicious tattoo inside his skull fade into nothingness. He knew it was not truly Fennick’s fault that he was failing his discipline; it was no one but his own. Kendel knew that he was weak, imperfect: warrior not of purity and grace, but of filth and savagery. That he was inexplicably attracted to a man of another species only topped the list of his imperfections.
He sighed, once more reaching for wine, refusing still to be baited into conversation by Fennick’s gaze. He was afraid of looking at the sand-cat, afraid of what might happen should he let himself fall too completely into the verdant summer pools set into that tanned desert face.
Three weeks ago, Kendel joined the last of
Orinskeep’s Knights of the Hawk in hopes of avenging upon the King’s thugs his
Master’s unlawful and brutal murder. As
the last of those that would call themselves the kutari, follow the
fourteen holy katei, and obey the Church in all matters, Kendel
was indebted to his Master and was obligated to fulfill his saitori
before he could consider himself fully a man and a warrior of the Code, and
joining with the Knights who sought to overthrow the crown-stealer and murderer
who sat upon the throne seemed a rational idea. At the time. Now he was
beginning to fear that he might fall into darkness before he could even
ritually say that he walks in light… all because of that sand-cat.
Kendel had
never met such a man as Fennick before.
He was everything Kendel was not, it often seemed. Fennick was loud, cheerful, often obnoxious
and usually laughing about something; he was drunk or stoned as often as he
could manage, indefatiguably silly and unpredictable, and oversexed to a degree
Kendel had thought was physically impossible.
Certainly it had never occurred to the blonde that a man would lust
after another man, or would actually engage in disgusting, despicable acts of
debauchery with one. While Kendel had
been taught that such things were unthinkable, and vile degradations of a warrior’s
finest weapon—his body— Fennick seemed to lack the niceties of such an
education and not only eyed up both men and women, but pursued both with
boundless enthusiasm.
Then one
evening, Kendel had noticed the sand-cat staring at him with a speculative
gleam in his eyes and a lazy grin, his tail flicking playfully.
Kendel was
both fascinated by Fennick’s amorous adventures and obvious interest, and
sickened by it, and it was hard for him to figure out how to react even to
Fennick’s mere presence. He could not
just ignore one of his men-at-arms, but neither did he wish to encourage the
‘cat’s interest in him as a sexual conquest.
Every day that crept by aggravated the problem, as Fennick’s interest
did not seem to subside but instead increase, and Kendel’s uneasiness grew to
new levels of discomfiture and embarrassment.
There were times when defending his morals and his life under the Code
in soul-wrenching arguments with the ‘cat that Kendel received quick flashes of
understanding of Fennick’s mind and spirit—like beams of light cutting though
the canopy to highlight random patches of dark forest floor—and these
revelations were more unnerving to Kendel than the appraising looks of desire
and “accidental” touches as they shook the ground underpinning his entire life,
the ethical code he followed which was written out so clearly in black and
white. Fennick lived in shades of gray.
He stared
moodily at the bottom of his empty wineglass, then wondered slowly how much of
the spicy-sweet liquid he had drunk while sitting immersed in his own thoughts. He was briefly aware once more of Fennick
sitting across from him, and raised his gaze to meet his, setting the glass
down.
“I haven’t
ever see you drink so much wine, Ken,” Fennick said in a low tone, using that
stupid nickname Kendel despised. “Are
you alright?”
“I’m
fine.” The voice that answered did not
sound like Kendel’s, but seemed to him to come from someplace on the other side
of the room. He knew then that he had
drunk far more than he had intended, and that it was time to retreat discreetly
to bed before Fennick also realized his lapse of judgment and decided to mock
him. He stood, but the combination of
blood-loss, hunger, sleep deprivation, and alcohol almost proved his undoing,
and for a moment his knees wobbled and bent, nearly spilling him to the floor
before he managed to grab desperately at the back of the chair. His hand clenched on the velvet and wood, as
he gritted his teeth in humiliation, still shaking and afraid to let go for
fear of collapsing and absolutely refusing to lift his head in Fennick’s
direction. It is his fault I am in
this position anyway… damn him!
But Fennick
was already there, his arm slipping firmly around Kendel’s waist, his warm,
firm body pressing close. “Ken…
Kendel? He sounded genuinely worried, and
Kendel could feel the hot sweet tickle of his breath against his ear as Fennick
struggled to hold him upright despite his drunkenness and obstinate refusal of
help. Kendel saw one golden furred hand
reach for his sword to sling it across the sand-cat’s own back, and gave an
outraged cry, straining like a tantrum-throwing child for the object he felt no
other living hands should dare touch, then the world faded into black.
“So go on and scream
Scream at me; I’m so far
away
I won’t be broken again
I’ve got to breathe; I
can’t keep going under…”
III
Fennick
dragged the unconscious Kendel and his massive sword up the stairs and into one
of their room, then dropped him onto the bed and the sword over the bedpost
before turning to light a candle and lock the door. He knew Kendel would wake wracked with shame, humiliation, and
guilt, and it was better for everyone if no one else walked in on this volatile
situation. He leaned against the smooth
lacquered wood and closed his eyes.
Fennick wasn’t sure whether he was blessed or cursed that the others had
retired over an hour ago, and that he was the only Knight awake to witness
Kendel’s drunkenness and tend to him tonight.
On one
hand… the ‘cat thought, He
needs the help, and who but I could show he the tenderness he will need. On the other… this is a temptation I may not be able to resist, and my actions
may just give Ken a reason to gut me.
He rubbed his forehead against the wood for another moment, then took a
calming breath and turned back to the prone warrior on the bed.
The single
lit candle threw a thin river of orange light and pools of sharp-cut shadows
across the bed, and Kendel’s pale hair gleamed like a thick rope of white gold
flowing across the pillows and home-made patchwork quilt. Fennick reached for the braid hesitantly,
and with shaking hands untied the strip of leather at the bottom and loosened
the tightly plaited strands, sighing with pleasure at the silken feel of it
against the callused pads of his hands and faint smell of it owner and soap
wafting up to his nose.
He dug his
hands into its thick fullness, unsheathing his claws to comb out the tangles,
his eyes half-lidded and heavy with bliss written full in them. He had always wanted to run his hands
through Kendel’s hair; he had never seen a man that had such beautiful hair,
nor one who was so vain and proud of it as Ken could sometimes be. Fennick brought a shining lock to his cheek
and rubbed it against his skin, aware that his groin was tightening almost
painfully and his breath was quick and shallow. With a groan he dropped his handful of hair and stepped away from
the bed, shaking his head and trembling.
I can’t
do this; I can’t do this; I can’t do this…
Kendel remained sleeping, his head turned to one side so that his face rested in the waterfall of his glorious mane; Fennick could see the rise and fall of his chest, and the throb of blood through his exposed throat, and he stood frozen, his heart pounding like thunder through him, his eyes dilated wide with fear and longing. He was unable to leave and unable to stay, and so, torn in two, he stood, aching and hopeless.
Kendel’s silver-white lashes fluttered, and Fennick almost shrieked, so badly was he startled as he was caught contemplating naughty thoughts about the blonde warrior. Kendel’s bright blue eyes opened, and dazedly stared at Fennick as if seeing him for the first time. “Mmmm…” the blonde licked his lips and sat up, shaking his head slowly, a frown gathering between his eyes. He looked at Fennick.
“What did you do?”
Fennick blinked in confusion, backing up with hands held up in appeal. “I didn’t do anything, Kendel,” he answered in a low, serious tone.
Kendel stared at him for what seemed like a long time, his eyes meeting Fennick like those of a hawk swooping upon a rabbit, then sighed, blinked, and shook his head once more. “I don’t know. It seems as though I trust you, despite indications that I shouldn’t. You are an unsavory individual, but you are trusting and loyal to your friends.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand, only to be thwarted once more by his weakness and drunkenness, and he collapsed in an ungraceful pile on the floor.
Fennick padded over and sat beside him, his tail sliding around the other man in a gentle friendly caress. He was a little hurt to see Kendel in such a dishonorable condition, and the blonde did not raise his head to look at Fennick, but sat with shoulders hunched and head hung low, to proud to scream or cry over his disgraceful state, but so badly hurt and humiliated his body shook with suppressed emotion.
“Kendel,” Fennick said softly, “Kendel Trent.” After another moment of silence, the sand-cat continued. “You are one of the strongest people I know, Kendel. You are a true warrior, and I’ve seen you. You fight every day. It is a glorious battle, and whether you win or lose… Whether you win or you lose, you fight just the same, with pride and dignity and honor. You win with grace, and when you lose you are but a fallen prince, and still the light seeks you.”
Kendel lifted his head slightly and peered at Fennick through the thin veil of his unbound hair, and though his lips were still twisted into a tight, pale line, a look of baffled surprise entered his eyes.
Fennick was not aware of the affects of his words upon Kendel, nor of the glacier-blue gaze now resting upon him. He was far and away, his own eyes glazed as they looked back upon the days on the road. He was watching Ken practice his sword-play once more, eyeing the strong lines of his lean body as he pulled himself into the saddle; he was smiling back at the blonde’s lazy grin as he swung a fat brace of rabbits over his shoulder. He was remembering the light the seemed to emanate from Kendel even on the gloomiest of days, as if the kutari gathered all the light within his flesh and condensed it like a prism.
“I had never known sand-cats to possess such silvery tongues,” Kendel finally murmured, almost wanting to smile at the too-earnest, faintly nostalgic look upon the usually mischievous face. There was something comforting about Fennick’s sweet concern—even if it was borne out of sexual interest—and devil-may-care approach to life. Kendel knew that none of the others would hear of his embarrassments this night, and that Fennick did not care in the least that he had broken the Code and humiliated himself. There was no anger or blame in Fennick, and, weary of staining under the yoke of the Code and church, Kendel found the ‘cat’s nonchalance was most welcome. He pressed closer to Fennick’s warmth with a sigh of relief.
Fennick startled, his reverie broken by the rub of Kendel shifting closer and the blonde’s head falling to rest upon his bare shoulder. He inhaled sharply, his flesh suddenly electric from the contact and his mind a jumbled mess. “You are… feeling better?” he finally managed to ask in astonishment.
The golden head upon his shoulder nuzzled against him in affirmative, and Fennick bit back a groan as mind and body both forcibly reminded him of how desirable they found the creature whose breath prickled the fine hairs upon his chest and whose marvelous hair slid like liquid over his chest and back. He touched his face to the top of Kendel’s head, breathing in the musky-sweet scent of the other Knight with closed eyes, while he fought the urge to show the blonde how beautiful Fennick truly found him.
“Fennick,” Kendel murmured, “I have seen you look at me sometimes…”
Fennick’s heart lurched into his throat, causing spots to dance briefly before his eyes.
“…look at me, as most men look after a woman they desire. You watch me with that pleased, haunted, hungry, sad light in your eyes. As if you are pleased with and long for me, but are pained by the sight of me as well.
“Aye?” Fennick’s mouth was strangely dry while his eyes felt overly moist.
Kendel took a deep breath. “I am sorry that I hurt you.”
For a long moment, Fennick was unable to find his voice. “You do not hurt me, Ken,” he finally managed. “I hurt myself by allowing myself to hope… hope that…” His voice choked off. “I’m sorry also. I know I bring shame to you, and Falcon does not let me forget that I bring shame also to our family.”
Kendel sighed and pressed closer; he was sure now of what he wanted, of how he could forget for a time his struggles and battles. He was sure of how to make that terrible desperation flicker out of Fennick’s lovely eyes. He was also sure the alcohol still sparkling in his bloodstream was influencing his decisions, but he no longer cared. No one had ever treated him as the boyish, sweet sand-cat had; no one had ever made him feel so angry, so tempted, so wanted as Fennick did.
One of Kendel’s long-fingered hands slipped over Fennick’s knee before skimming teasingly over his thigh, and Ken smiled faintly at the sand-cat’s sudden stiffening at the touch. He turned against Fennick so that they came nose to nose, with Kendel nearly in the ‘cat’s lap. “You bring no shame to me tonight, SunDance,” he whispered, and in a fit of daring, he captured Fennick’s rosy lips with his own and pressed forward, pinning the ‘cat against the side of the bed.
“I’m going under
Drowning in you
I’ve got to break through
I’m going under…”
IV
Fennick froze dead, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it would explode, and he did not seem to be able to breathe as the slim warrior pressed forward and his soft, moist lips grazed over Fennick’s. The first tentative touches seemed to last forever and sent his thoughts scattering like startled birds, and it was only after he heard himself moan in delicious pleasure and anticipation that he realized that he could actually still move. He reached up and once more tangled his hands within the thick platinum mane of Kendel’s hair and pulled the blonde closer firmly against him, sealing the kiss.
Kendel whined softly in his throat as Fennick finally realized what was going on and began petting the long cornsilk strands of hair that seemed to be all around them, as the sand-cat’s rough-textured tongue slipped over his lips and into his mouth, making him arch his back and tremble. The fear and excitement running through him burned his blood and made him thrill to feel the press of Fennick’s wet mouth against his, the strength of the body he was half-falling into, the hard evidence of the sand-cat’s arousal pushing against his lower belly. Kendel shifted to straddle Fennick’s lap, his mouth never leaving the other’s, and his hands slipped over the sun-bronzed flesh of the ‘cat’s exposed chest. He squirmed with growing excitement, his nails scratching at Fennick’s firm back, his kisses growing more frantic and hungry. His tongue flicked into the hot, wet cave of Fennick’s mouth, tracing over the ridged upon the roof, dancing over the points of the ‘cat’s needle-like fangs.
Fennick pulled back, gasping for air and staring at his flushed companion, upon whose face was written a sort of desperate hunger. “Kendel…” he breathed, running on finger along the smooth angle of the blonde’s cheek. Pausing there a moment, he looked almost tenderly into Kendel’s eyes before grinning wildly and tugging with claw-equipped hands at the blonde’s soft cotton shirt.
“I want you…” Kendel ducked his head and grimaced as the claws scraped his back. “I need you…” The shirt got stuck in the yards of gleaming blonde hair. “I…” Fennick paused in the middle of his declaration, tossed the article of clothing to one side and took a deep breath. A mixture of anguish and delight and anticipation swirled across Kendel’s face. Fennick stopped his runaway mouth by clapping back down upon Ken’s, and stretched his hands over the silky skin of the blonde’s back.
If Kendel was offended or disappointed, it did not show. He arched his back under the scrape of Fennick’s rough hand-pads—the black-skinned, fat-cushioned heavy calluses on his palms that made his hands resemble the bottoms of an animal’s feet—and moaned against the fang-lined mouth once more upon his lips, his own hands outlining Fennick’s hard, dark nipples, then diving to pull fitfully upon his drawstring-tied waistband. “Beautiful,” he managed to murmur thickly, “So beautiful.”
Fennick paused for breath, lazily grinning at Kendel before trailing a string of passionate kisses and nips down the blonde’s throat. His one hand remained upon Ken’s back and tangled in his hair; the other slipped down against the warrior’s firm stomach, playing over the ripple of muscle, scratching at the boundary of suede that cut across his hips, then slid lower, his strong fingers stroking the bulge that was pushing the suede out uncomfortably tight.
Kendel bucked his hips and cried out, tossing his head at the unexpected sensation, causing ripples in his hair like waves in the ocean after an earthquake. His eyes rolled sightlessly upward, his mouth dropped open to gasp for breath, and his whole body shook on top of Fennick’s like a sapling in the wind. The sand-cat’s nimble tail swept around and gathered the loose mass of flaxen hair, then flicked and curled wildly over Kendel’s back and buttocks, revealing Fennick’s eagerness though the expression on his face was that of bland amusement. He stroked the blonde once more, delighting in the reaction he caused, then wrapped his other arm around Kendel and levered them up and away from the bed.
Kendel pressed against Fennick, dimly aware that the shorter man had somehow managed to lift them both off the floor and was cradling him close one-armed. “Fen…” He hit the bed gently. “..nick?” With sudden clarity he saw the gleam of the sand-cat’s reflective eyes above him, and felt a pair of hands shucking his breeches from him. He shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts into an organized pattern. “Fennick,” he said again, a little more firmly, and he sat up, frowning.
Fennick grinned at him from the bottom of the bed, and undid his purple and saffron hurn’aa—the cape with sleeves and a collar that was the traditional garb of his people. His white-tipped tail coiled and lashed across the bed. Kendel raised a brow and crawled closer, his eyes focused upon the green ones of his companion and his hands reaching for the spring-green tie that held the ‘cat’s loose pants about his waist. The knot was an uncomplicated one, and after a brief moment, Kendel gave the drawstring a yank and sent Fennick’s pants into a violet puddle. And then the blonde just stared.
Though he was well aware that the Nyarr’ma—the sand-cats—were not human, Kendel had thought nothing of the seemingly small differences between the two, and had certainly not speculated upon what might lie hidden under a ‘cat’s clothing.
Most of Fennick’s body was covered by a fine, silky down of nearly invisible blonde hairs, which thickened to an actual coat of soft gold and sepia brindled fur on his forearms, lower legs, and the top of his tail. The trail of hairs that led southward from his navel, however, was pure white, smooth, and soft; and covered his groin front and back until it became the plush white underside of his tail, as well as the insides of his thighs. More remarkable than that, though, was the sight of Fennick’s manhood straining forth from its soft, furry sheath. It was bright red in color, strongly curved, and possessed a crown of nubs starring it just below the pointed tip.
Fennick grinned at the surprised look of Kendel’s beautiful face and flopped down on the bed next to him, his restless hands unable to stay away from their prize, once more setting about petting and fondling the blonde’s flesh. They skimmed over his stomach and the tops of his thighs, consciously avoiding other more interesting places. “Ken…” he sighed, stretching out luxuriously.
Kendel licked his lips nervously, aware of his heart beating in his throat like the frantic wings of a captured bird, aware of the hot, hard push of his own arousal against his leg. Fennick was there, so close, so naked and needful and spread across the bed. Touching him. He closed his eyes and moved to cover Fennick, feeling pleasure jolt through his body once more as sensitive skin met with the cool, sleekness of the white fur decorating the insides of the ‘cat’s legs and his mouth found the throb of veins running through his neck. Kendel heard Fennick’s hissing intake of breath, and felt him arch his legs up and out to press himself down against Ken in tempting offer, but concentrated instead upon nuzzling, kissing, and nibbling down the length of the ‘cat’s body, taking his time in tasting the flesh of his lover.
Fennick was squirming beneath him within minutes, his breath quick and sharp, and his tail slithering across Kendel’s back like a furred serpent. “Ken,” he panted. The blonde’s hot wetness dragged across one dark nipple, his tongue circling and probing.
“Ken…” Fennick arched upward in response to Kendel’s teeth tugging at his navel.
Kendel paused, gasping for breath and trembling with apprehension, and looked into the wide, glazed eyes of the man beneath him before letting his gaze trail lazily down the ‘cat’s body. With a quick, decisive movement, he dipped his elegant head and took Fennick into his mouth.
“Ken!” Fennick’s cry was torn from him, as the blonde’s hot wetness clamped down over his engorged member and his tongue swept over the highly sensitive nubs. Fennick thrust his hips upward, and his claws dug into the mass of white-gold hair pooling upon his abdomen. He had not been expecting such an action from Kendel, and the unexpectedness of the act nearly made Fennick lose all control. He bared his fangs in a feral snarl of ecstasy, and arched upward against the mattress, his breath whistling between his locked teeth
Kendel laid one forearm across the peaks of Fennick’s pelvis, holding him down firmly against the bed. He had gagged at the sand-cat’s first involuntary thrust, and did not wish for it to happen again. He, was, however, pleased to see that he could provoke such a response, and as he wrapped his tongue around the firm flesh in his mouth, Kendel felt the sensuous slide of furred legs wrapping around his waist and the low vibration in Fennick’s belly that was caused by the ‘cat’s heady growls.
Fennick saw—and felt—the blonde head bob slowly downward, and he strained against the arm that pinned him down. His agonized groan of pleasure was more of a snarl, and his tail flogged Kendel’s back wildly, and when Ken’s teeth scraped lightly against him, stars exploded across his vision and one handful of claws sank mercilessly into the blonde’s shoulder.
Kedel’s head lifted and he stared across Fennick’s body with the eyes of a hunted animal, blood trickling unnoticed down his arm. “Do you want me, Fennick?” he asked, and his voice was surprisingly level.
Fennick blinked rapidly. “I wa… I wan…” His chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath, and his jaw ached miserably from clenching his teeth. “I want…” His vision finally cleared and he stared at Kendel, finally realizing what the question was about. “Oh, Kendel, I do want you, but we don’t have to....” He trailed off, wondering where it was that he lost control of this situation.
“Get up,” Kendel ordered, her eyes narrowed.
Fennick obeyed, gritting his teeth once more at the throbbing need in his loins, and at Kendel’s curt gesture, sank down upon his knees. He cocked his head curiously and flicked his ears as he realized that Kendel had left the bed to root through the ‘cat’s abandoned pants. More specifically, he was digging in the dyed leather satchel attached to the drawstring. Before Fennick could ask, Ken has found what he wanted, and stood up with a small vial of precious oil in his hand.
Fennick blushed at the sight. He wasn’t sure how Kendel had known where he kept that, and he didn’t want to know. Smiling a bit, he buried his red face in folded arms and raised his tail over his back, waiting almost patiently. His nose caught the bright, sharp scent of mint, and he shivered in anticipation.
There was a long pause, then the bed in front of Fennick sank under Kendel’s weight. The ‘cat looked up in surprise.
“I… I can’t,” Kendel confessed, brushing strands of hair out of his face. “I want…” He looked up and pressed the vial into Fennick’s hand. “Please?” He bit his lip nervously.
Fennick got up to his hands and knees, clutching the small bottle carefully, and moved to curl comfortably around Kendel’s back. His tail curled over the blonde’s hip, and he rested his head upon his shoulder, sighing. He could feel Kendel shaking against him, and his sensitive ears could make out the throbbing of his heart. Fennick nuzzled his face into the blonde’s strong shoulder and closed his eyes. “You don’t want this,” he said finally, his heart breaking as he forced himself to say what he knew to be true. “You…” His throat made a soft click as it closed off the horrible, necessary words, and he turned his face away, not wanting Kendel to feel his shoulder wet with the ‘cat’s tears.
“How dare you.”
At first Fennick did not recognize the low, snarling voice as that of the man pressing against him. Kendel twisted against him like a trapped and still vicious animal and yanked Fennick’s head back. He pinned him to the bed, his hand gripping the sand-cat’s ear and hair painfully. The scent of mint filled the room as the slick bottle fell from Fennick’s surprised hand and coated both men in oil. Fennick stared in shock up into the glistening, infuriated blue eyes inches from his; he could feel the ragged, hot harshness of Kendel’s breath against his face. A warm, salty drop of liquid splashed on Fennick’s parted lips, and he licked it away, unsure whether it was sweat or a tear.
“Don’t you understand anything!” Kendel hissed, twisting Fennick’s delicate ear savagely and making the younger man cry out in pain. Fennick closed his eyes, and there was a long pause before the blonde cried out miserably. “D- Don’t y-y-you understand?” It was raining on Fennick now; a warm spring rain was falling on his closed eyelids, rolling down his nose, dripping into his mouth. He had seen the lightning flash in an ice-blue sky and heard the accompanying low growl of thunder. Of course it was raining. He took a deep breath, savoring the sweet, wet smell. Rain is life, he thought. “You are so full of life,” he murmured, barely aware of the words slipping past his lips. “Ah…!” He felt suddenly as though he were falling and gasped for breath sharply; his claws reflexively sank into the quilt and Kendel’s smooth-skinned arm. His eyes fluttered open and stared blankly through the other knight, filled with something resembling terror. “Don’t let me fall! Ken!”
Shaken, Kendel drew back, trembling as a sliver of ice slide down his spine. No, no… He clutched the ‘cat closer, touching their foreheads together as if to draw the poisonous vision from Fennick’s mind into his own, his hands gripping the smaller body beneath him painfully tight. “Fennick,” he swallowed back a hoarse sob, “Fen… c-come b-b-back…”
“I love you, Kendel.”
The blonde jerked back, staring down at the young sand-cat’s now resolute face. Whatever vision had hijacked his mind before had been swept away, and Fennick stared upward with a surprisingly mature and serious expression. A smile ghosted across his face and he patted the top of Kendel’s head, leaving splotches of the blonde’s own blood dotted in the platinum mane. “My heart feels as if it would burst, for it is so full of love for you, best-beloved, child of the sun. And there is nothing you can say or do that I would not love, that I would not feel echoing within my own body, my own mind, my own soul.” He stroked a rough-skinned hand up Kendel’s back, the lines of his face falling placid and peaceful with secret joy. “You should get some sleep,” he cut off the blonde’s next words gently. “I will keep guard tonight, and nothing will dare challenge me, not even a night terror.” Though Kendel had told no one of his inability to sleep, the ‘cat flashed his fangs in a knowing grin.
Kendel tried to speak, then shook his head. He let Fennick push him off and roll him onto the bed, tears pouring from the blonde as though there was no end to them. His body was wracked by soft, harsh sobs, and he made no move to push the younger man away as Fennick bent over him to mop up the mint oil and then pull the quilt over his shaking body.
The last thing Kendel saw that late night through tear-blurred eyes was Fennick, wearing his loose violet pants once more, picking up the blonde’s enormous sword—nearly the full length of the ‘cat’s body from toe to ear-tip—and taking a protective stance near the bed; Fennick leaning to blow out the guttering candle.
Epilogue
V
Kendel opened his eyes, wondering for a moment where he was. His eyes felt dry and the skin around them stiff, and he scrubbed at them with one hand. His gaze fell upon the beams of golden light coming in from the open window and the soft fluttering shapes of birds dancing in the trees, then shifted to his sword leaned up against the wooden shelf by the bed. The candle sitting in its bronze dish on the shelf had been burned into a puddle.
Kendel sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He could smell mint wafting up from his warm skin and the blankets, and with a bitter shake of his head he got up and got dressed.
Thorn, Bayolin, Falcon, and Fennick were all already downstairs by the time Kendel went down to join them. He hesitated on the stairs for a brief moment, as he had caught the gleam of strawberry-blonde and tuft-tipped ears sitting at the bar, and wondered for a desperate moment how he could get though this day after what had happened last night. He sighed and finished the stairs slowly, walking to the seat he had taken last night by the fire.
Thorn and Bayolin barely spared him a glance, and he settled into the chair gratefully. Before he could draw another breath, however, he was aware of someone looming over the back of the seat, and he tensed.
“Mmm,” the harsh voice hissed in his ear. “Should’ve known such a pretty blonde bitch would be so easy, no matter what morals you claim to have.”
Kendel jerked to face Falcon, a snarl rising to his lips. The sand-cat wore a vicious grin, his pointed canines but an inch from Kendel’s face, and his eyes were narrowed in malicious joy. “So…” The blonde saw a set of curved claws sink into the upholstery from the corner of his eyes. “Did you enjoy your little taste of beastiality, you perverse human hypocrite? Perhaps next you’ll be bedding your mare… but, no, you prefer other males, don’t you?” Falcon’s tone was jovially savage, and though he focused intently on the play of expression on Kendel’s face, he was sure to pitch his voice to carry throughout the room so that none could ignore what he was saying. “Did it taste good, between your pretty feminine lips? Did you like having your tight little…”
“That’s enough, Falcon.” Fennick half-turned to glance at his brother from the corner of his eye. His face was tired and tight, but revealed no emotion. His tone was hard with warning, and caused Falcon to snap upright away from Kendel and lay his ears back flat. Fennick turned back to his glass of clear liquid, ignoring his incensed brother for the first time the other knights had seen.
Falson snarled, but Fennick did not even twitch an ear. He was far too accustomed to having his brother furious at him to care. He took a sip of alcohol, perfectly aware that Falcon had crossed the room, and offered no resistance as he was swept from his seat and thrown to the floor. He didn’t even bother to try and catch himself, but landed awkwardly face-first on the floor; he could dimly see the other knights rise to their feet. Falcon’s foot-paw crushed into the back of Fennick’s neck, and four thick, razor-sharp claws slid into his skin as the older ‘cat leaned down, presumably to begin mocking his brother. Fennick didn’t wait to find out.
In a blur of motion, Fennick turned over, unbalancing his brother, and lashed out with his own set of claws, sinking both hands on the inside of one thigh and kicking up into Falcon’s buttocks hard. Both sand-cats sprang away quickly; Falcon landing on all fours and hissing in rage, and Fennick tumbling to a defensive position, his eyes hard and a silver set of daggers in his hands. Thorn and Bayolin stepped between them.
Fennick deftly slide the daggers away and turned, not needing the reprimand he knew would come from the older warriors. Glowering, Falcon too rose to his feet, though his fur was still raised in anger and his fangs were bared behind his lips. Thorn and Bayolin exchanged a glance, and shrugging stepped aside. This was for the brothers and perhaps Kendel to work out.
Falcon caught Fennick’s arm at the door, his claws sinking into the gold brindled fur and then into flesh, but the younger man threw his brother off impatiently. “I think,” he said, pitching his voice so low only the fine hearing of the other sand-cat could make out the words, “that you have brought more shame to our family in a few minutes than I did all last night, CloudSweeper. Mind thy tongue… and thy claws!”
Falcon stood in the doorway, growling in rage.
Silent in his seat, Kendel’s shoulders shook with despair. He had failed his sacred vows… he had fallen from the light of law and truth, and the consequences of his failure weighted heavily on him.
Today, he would begin repenting his sins once more. He would obey the Code of the kutari, and this time, he would not fall. He would be strong in body, mind, soul, and spirit.
His heart ached in his chest.