Roger d’Amory

In the blazing light of the tavern’s twin fireplaces, Roger spotted the lad out of the corner of his eye as he was wiping down the bar. The brothel was slow that evening as it tended to be when the local lord was absent from his manor. Sales would pick up in a week or so when he returned along with the rest of his retinue. Roger enjoyed these times; it meant he could sleep by himself rather than having to ‘entertain’ a series of men in his bed. 

He took a liking to the youth as soon as he saw him. Coltish and awkward yet also possessing the steely ghost of the man he would become, the boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen summers old. A squire by the looks of him, he thought, something confirmed a moment later when Roger spotted the knight in the front of the house. Like most brothels of the time, this one had two taverns, one for respectable patrons and a back one behind a beaded curtain for the more adventurous.

The knight was a hulking beast of a man, possessing a swagger that Roger’s practiced eye found telling. The man moved as if he owned the place, despite having only just arrived and, as far as Roger knew, never having visited the brothel before. He was surrounded by an entourage of young men who were falling over themselves to gain his favor. Curiously, though, the boy was not among them.

“Good evening, kind sir,” Roger said, inviting the boy to sit on a stool at the bar. “What can I get for you?”

The lad looked around, flushed. When he spoke, his strangely accented voice was barely audible. “An ale, sir.”

“An ale it is,” Roger said, smiling disarmingly. Part of his craft was putting would-be patrons at ease, although, if he were to guess, this squire lacked the coin to afford a night with him. Which can mean only one thing, he thought, smiling to himself as he gazed past the boy to the knight in the other room. Typical, he thought. Our good knight is too craven to arrange for a tryst and has sent his squire in his stead. Well, let’s give this lad a show… 

He turned around to pull the draft from the ale barrel, glancing above him at the polished copper mirror as he did so and taking note of the boy’s startled stare. Being part of the brothel’s merchandise, Roger, you see, wore only an apron that covered his front but left his generous buttocks bared and on full display to the bar when he turned.

When he placed the tankard down in front of the lad, the boy was so stunned that it took him a moment to take it. Roger used the opportunity to study the boy, taking note of broad shoulders and pleasing countenance. (He’s young and lacks muscle now but he’ll grow to be a true brute of a man, even bigger, I’ll wager, than his knight.) Still wearing his riding leathers and smelling pleasantly of horse, the lad had soft, brown eyes, closely-cropped brown hair, and a sturdy jaw with just a few whiskers. His complexion was dark as well, causing Roger to wonder if he was Castilian. That would explain the accent.

Realizing that he was staring, the lad shook himself and took an unsteady sip of his ale. Roger watched his prominent Adam’s apple bob up and down, thinking, Ah, so he’s not much of a drinker. This might be the first time he’s tasted ale at its full strength. I’ll have to go easy on him.

The boy avoided looking Roger in the eye, something that was common for first timers. Instead, his gaze inevitably drifted down to the pendant hanging between Roger’s well-developed pectorals.

“What is that?” he asked meekly, placing the tankard down before him.

Before Roger could answer, a man at the end of the bar chimed in, “Them’s ‘is bollocks, boy! Did ye ferget where ye are? ‘Ee’s a ploughin’ eunuch!” Huddled around the scattered tables, several of the other patron’s looked over and laughed as the man said this. A couple of the women–taking a much-needed break between clients–smiled to themselves. Roger didn’t care; he was used to being treated like he was less than human.

Predictably, the lad colored deeply at learning this news but it was another reaction that captured Roger’s attention: The boy’s hand went reflexively to the hilt of the dagger on his belt. Well, well, he thought. What’s that about? Is the pretty young thing ready to defend my honor? He snorted to himself; it stretched credulity to believe that anyone would be concerned with the honor of a whore like himself. He existed for one purpose only: To give pleasure to the men and very occasional woman who paid the madam for his services.

“That’s right,” Roger said, patting the sac around his neck. “This is what’s left of my manhood. Like the rest of my fellow bedwarmers, I was castrated when I was brought here. They do that to put us in our place and also to prevent unwanted pregnancies.” He smiled at the boy’s puzzled expression, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Yes, surprising as it may seem, I offer my services to men and women alike.”

It was amusing to watch the wheels turn inside the boy’s skull. Roger waited patiently as the inevitable question formed behind those bewitching brown eyes. “If you, uh, serve women, too, then you…?”

Roger nodded and, in wordless answer, reached back to unfasten his apron. As it slid down his front, exposing his perfectly smooth and hairless skin and bulging muscles, he explained, “I was unmanned, you see, but Madam Pomphrey took only my balls and she left me my masterpiece.”

The apron slowly slid past his crotch, revealing the base of his thick meat. He was in no hurry, knowing well that the art of seduction relied heavily upon timing. As the cloth slipped downward and inch after inch of his long, fat cock was exposed, the fact that it pointed straight down at the floor due to his lack of balls was almost incidental; the boy’s eyes were glued to the sheer magnitude of his prize…as were someone else’s. Roger gazed past the lad to find the knight in the other room staring hungrily at his naked body through the beaded curtain. 

“I have no balls, it’s true,” he said, smirking at the lad’s slackened jaw and the knight’s scrutiny. “But unlike the other boys here, I have a fully serviceable tool.” He let the apron fall to the floor and stood completely naked before the squire. Patting the sac around his neck that contained his severed testicles, he continued, “That was part of my original…patron’s…contract with the madam. Sorcery was employed during my castration. As long as I wear my balls around my neck, I will not grow fat and soft like most eunuchs, nor will I lose my beard.” He raised his hand to stroke his thick but well-trimmed, brown beard. “And, of course, I retain my ability to penetrate.”

He doubted the lad even heard him; the squire was too entranced by the sight of Roger’s magnificent cock and hard body. Such regard was something that Roger had grown quite accustomed to over the many years of his captivity in the brothel. Enslaved as he was, he still took his job seriously and spent hours every day perfecting his physique. He had no other choice but to do so! His life depended on it. The night when he was no longer deemed attractive would be the beginning of his demise. He had no family, no property, no savings. He was alone in the world with only his looks and body to keep him alive. The Black Prince–the man he hated most in all the world–had seen to that.

“Go on,” he entreated. “Touch it. I can see you want to.” He waggled his huge cock enticingly, inviting the lad. When the boy still hesitated, he added, “It’s always a good idea to test the merchandise before you purchase it.”

“I…I…,” the boy stuttered but after hesitating he slowly reached out with a shaking hand. Roger threw his head back and moaned as the lad’s calloused fingers caressed his thick rod. It was only partly an act; he was surprised to find himself responding to the boy’s touch. (Why does he remind me of someone I used to know? he wondered idly. I feel like I should know him…) Soon his pole had hardened, growing rapidly in size as it stood up proudly. When his foreskin peeled back, revealing his monumentally huge cockhead, the boy dropped his hand. His cheeks were flaming red by this point and his brow was beaded with sweat. Everyone in the tavern had put down their drinks to stare at them; even after all of these years, Roger’s masterpiece still retained the power to awe even the most jaundiced observer.

“Here,” Roger said, holding out a rag for the boy to mop his face. He didn’t bother to cover himself yet, though. He could still feel the knight’s eyes upon him from the other room and knew that his price increased the longer the man stared.  “The madam keeps it warm in here,” he explained, gesturing down at his nudity, “for obvious reasons. No one buys if they can’t see flesh and she doesn’t want us to get cold.”

If the squire heard him, he didn’t show it; he was still busy gaping at Roger’s body. He finally opened his mouth but it was some time before he managed to stammer, “Y-Y-You are…so beautiful! Were that you were mine…”

Roger’s heart went out to the lad. The young ones were always like this; they were so new to the sordid ways of the adult world that they confused lust with love. Reaching down to idly scratch at the scar where his balls used to be, he inquired, “That was the first time you’ve touched another man’s cock, wasn’t it?”

The lad looked down at the bar and remained silent.

Roger smiled. Such a sweet, sweet lad! “Listen, um…?”

“Enzio,” the squire murmured, glancing up at him shyly. “Enzio of Navarre.”

Alright, so not Castilian but I was close! Roger reached down and picked up his discarded apron, fastening it again around his waist. His cock, still half hard, protruded noticeably against the coarse fabric. “Enzio,” he said, “I like you.”

“I like you, too. Very much!”

Roger was surprised at the response this pronouncement elicited in him. His cock plumped up further at the sound of the lad’s pleasant rumble. Enzio had such a deep voice! Just like…but, no, the memory eluded him. It took him a moment to collect himself before he was able to continue. “Because I like you, I’ll tell you something important: Stop thinking about me as a person and think of me only as an object. It will be easier that way.”

“You are not an object!” Enzio protested. “You’re a young lord! I can tell by your speech.”

The corner of Roger’s mouth lifted. “I see you’re observant as well as handsome. But I am no longer a lord, nor am I young.”

Enzio’s brown eyes locked abruptly on his own as he reacted to the first part of Roger’s pronouncement. He didn’t need to speak for Roger to read his mind; it was clear that no one had ever called the lad comely before. This betrayed both his inexperience and gullibility because every whore worth his salt knew to stroke his client’s pride. In Enzio’s case, however, it was no idle compliment; Roger really did think the boy was handsome…or at least he would be once he grew into his manhood. 

Enzio’s modesty prevented him from asking Roger if he really believed him to be good looking. Instead, he asked, “How can you ‘no longer’ be a lord? Did the king strip you of your title? And how can you say you are old? You cannot be more than five years older than I!”

“I am flattered but I was brought here nearly twenty winters ago,” Roger admitted, “when I was but nineteen years old.” When this news was greeted with skepticism by the lad, he gestured to his face and glistening, smooth torso, “It’s…complicated…but this face and most of my skin is much younger than my body. And ‘twas no king who took away my title but my own father…but that, my lord squire, is a very long tale.”

“You must tell me!” Enzio insisted, impulsively reaching out to grasp Roger’s hand. “Tell me what happened to you!”

Propriety demanded that Roger yank away his hand; it was permissible for whores to invite a client to touch them but clients could not touch a whore on their own accord until they had paid Madam Pomphrey.

“What is it?” Enzio demanded, hurt etched in his eyes. He extracted (the knight’s) coin purse from his belt and held it out. “I have gold! I will pay you for your tale!”

Roger politely pushed the (very full) coin pouch back to him, keenly aware that he was being watched by his fellow prostitutes. “Listen, Enzio,” he began, careful to keep his tone gentle, “let me tell you how this works.” He waited for the boy to nod before continuing. “See those stairs over there? You need to climb them and ask to speak with Madam Pomphrey.” He pointed to the staircase off the side of the tavern. The hand railing was garlanded with holly and ivy as it was approaching Yuletide. A rich, red carpet graced the steps. “Once you and Madam have agreed on a price, in an hour’s time, one of our girls will come get your knight–”

“What do you mean?!” Enzio interrupted. “I am buying, not–”

Roger held up his hand. “Stop. Let’s drop the facade, shall we? I know that your knight sent you to do his dirty work for him. Am I wrong?”

Enzio clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. Roger felt bad for him; he’d clearly wounded the boy’s pride in seeing through his ruse. He sighed inwardly. Men–even young, inexperienced men–are all the same!

“In an hour’s time,” he continued, “the girl will lead your knight to a room upstairs and I will be inside waiting for him. This way, he can maintain his charade and not lose face before his army of worshippers.” He leaned forward until he was face to face with Enzio, concluding quietly, “And only you and I will know that he’s a short-dicked coward who enjoys riding a big, fat cock.”

Enzio’s unhappy expression dissolved a bit with these words and he asked, “How did you know that he–?”

“What? Has a small cock?” Roger asked, smiling. He shrugged. “It’s obvious. One look at him and I could tell he’s got less than an inch down there. And cherry-sized nuts, too. I’ll bet he’s a vixen beneath the sheets, though. Men like him are always insatiable!”

Enzio suppressed a laugh…and the urge to turn around and look at his knight. He surprised Roger the next moment by asking, “And what about me?”

“What about you?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed slyly. “What can you tell about me?”

Roger’s smile deepened. “You? You’re clearly a virgin.” At Enzio’s crestfallen look, he added hurriedly, “But I can tell that you will like it rough with some bruises and a little blood. You’re dominant, yet you will enjoy a finger or two inside you too for fun. Your cock is definitely sizable, probably nearly as big as mine and finally…”

Enzio’s expression had become glazed as Roger spoke. His eyes were dreamy and his face was flushed. His pupils had dilated, turning his soft, brown eyes nearly black. When Roger’s voice trailed off, though, he roused himself, begging, “What? Tell me! Tell me!”

Roger grinned wolfishly, concluding, “You are dying to lick my arsehole–both before…and after–you fuck me.”

With these words, Enzio arched his back and moaned, “UNGH!” 

He was so loud that everyone turned once again and stared in their direction. The boy was oblivious to their regard or any sense of shame, though, as his whole body thrummed from head to toe with a spontaneous orgasm. Roger watched him with amusement, guessing the young fellow had been sporting an erection from the moment he passed through the beaded curtain. Seeing Roger’s bare arse and touching his big cock had only heightened his arousal to the point that he’d been on the verge of shooting for at least the past quarter hour. Having Roger read his mind so accurately sealed the deal, probably giving Enzio the first hands-free denouement of his life. Ah, to be that young again! Roger thought wistfully.

He waited for Enzio to come down from the lofty heights of bliss before commenting wryly, “I just saved you ten crowns. Now all you owe me for is the ale.”

His euphoria wearing off, Enzio became self-conscious and looked around furtively before his gaze dropped to the crotch of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Sure, here,” Roger said, handing him the rag again. “And you can keep that. I don’t want it back now.”

Enzio grinned sheepishly while fishing his hand under his belt to mop himself clean. When he was done, he started to reach out to take Roger’s hand again but then caught himself. “I still want to hear your tale,” he implored. “I may not have enough of my own coin to afford you but I can give you a few silvers for your time.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Roger offered, leaning over the bar and purposely letting his apron fall away to expose his bare buttocks again. He smiled as he saw Enzio watching his rear reflected back from the copper mirror overhead. Roger might have a big cock but he was equally proud of his smooth, full, rounded yet muscular arse. Plus, he surmised that it was that arse that attracted Enzio’s attention more than anything else. “Go upstairs and pay Madam Pomphrey. Once the deal is sealed, I’ll have an hour before I have to…entertain…your knight. That is plenty of time for me to tell you my story.” Enzio nodded happily and was preparing to get up and head upstairs when Roger stopped him. “And if you give the madam those silvers you just mentioned, she will agree to let you into my room after our knight has fallen asleep. If we’re quiet, I’m sure we can find ways to amuse ourselves…”

Enzio’s eyes went wide. “Really? But–”

Roger waved the question off. “Trust me, with the stack of gold she’s going to earn from selling me tonight, she can afford to be magnanimous. Plus,” he paused to bat his eyelashes coquettishly, “she likes me.” 

He smiled to himself, watching the boy scamper up the stairs like an eager pup. When he felt his heart flutter inside his chest, he frowned. What was it about the lad that had gotten to him? In all of his years whoring, he’d never once allowed himself to have feelings for his clients. This was the first time in over seventeen years that he’d felt this way for a man…

***

Roger’s tale, Part I: Seventeen years earlier

“I’m telling you, Vasco,” Roger boasted, spreading his legs wide and leaning back proudly in his chair, “She actually thanked me after I fucked her! Said I was the best lay she’s ever had!” He sighed, shivering from head to toe. “My cock is still half hard thinking about her!”

Captain Vasco arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Every whore says the same thing, you stupid boy! Do you really believe she meant it?”

Roger scowled. “Of course, she did! She took one look at my big cock and fell in love with it. She ought to have paid me for the pleasure of riding it, not the other way around!”

Vasco stood up, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “God save us from arrogant young pricks!”

“Hey, I heard that!” Roger protested. “Is that any way to talk to your lord?”

“You’re not a lord yet, whelp!” Vasco replied disgustedly. “And I did not tell you to come bothering me with these exaggerated tales of your exploits. If you’re through, I have to get back to Inez. I told her I’d take care of the babe this morn.”

“Wait, Vasco!” Roger cried, leaping up from his chair and grabbing the captain of the guard by the arm. “Don’t go yet! I have so much to tell you!”

Vasco halted, looking down stonily at Roger’s hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, boy, but I think I’ve heard enough. Congratulations on losing your virginity to a poxy whore at the tavern!”

“But–”

“No buts!” Vasco growled, shaking off his hand. “I have to get back to my wife. I’m off duty right now.”

Roger couldn’t understand why the captain was being so cold. Vasco de Pamplona, a minor noble in his homeland of Navarre, might be beneath Roger’s station but the two shared everything together. Vasco was equal parts mentor, big brother, father and friend, training him in the arts of hunting, fighting and war. Just six years older than Roger, he was barely in his mid-twenties and possessed a boyish streak that fatherhood had yet to rob him of.

Acting impulsively, he stepped in front of Vasco, barring his exit from the room. As Vasco stared down at him, eyes smoldering, Roger smiled disarmingly. “Come on, Vasque! Don’t be like this! My prick is still wet from its first cunnie and I’m ready for fun! Let’s go hunting this afternoon, just the two of us. The prince is due in on the morrow and my father told me that he’s taking him and the rest of the royal company on a hunt. I need to practice my bow work so I don’t look like an idiot in front of Prince Edward!”

He placed both hands on Vasco’s shoulders, all but begging him with his expressive blue eyes. Vasco wavered, brown eyes alternating between soft and cold in his handsome face. He was a big man with incredibly wide shoulders and beefy arms. Standing more than six feet tall, he dwarfed Roger who was not quite five feet six. His long legs were thickly muscled and yet his waist was tapered and thin. Dressed in tight-fitting leathers that showed off his lean yet powerful frame, he attracted attention wherever he went. He was indisputably the lord’s favorite at court, which explained why he’d been entrusted with looking after that lord’s eldest son and the future heir to the estate. Barely a day went by when Roger wasn’t found lurking in his sizable shadow.

“You have tutoring,” Vasco stated. He’d meant to sound stern by there was a note of indecision in his voice that Roger quickly latched onto.

“Fuck tutoring!” he spat. “Hunting’s more important! Please, Vasque! Please! There’s a covert near the lake where I’ve heard the huntsman say a stag can be found. We can ride out there together.”

Vasco shook his head. “You go to your tutoring now and I will go look after my new son.” When Roger protested, he held up a big hand, placating, “we will hunt after lunch. I will meet you down by the stables.”

Overjoyed, Roger momentarily forgot himself and threw himself into Vasco’s arms just like he had when he was a small lad. He recovered quickly, though, pulling back and looking awkwardly down at the floor. “Right then,” he grunted. “I’ll see you in a while.”

He turned and stalked out of the room. Vasco watched him go with a wry smile on his face.

***

Roger was not down by the stables after lunch. Vasco waited for him for nearly an hour before going to look for him. By the time he tracked him down in his private chambers, he was seething with anger. The boy could be so forgetful!

When Roger didn’t respond to his initial knock, his temper got the better of him and he pounded hard upon the door. From within, he could hear murmured voices and then the door opened a crack. Roger looked out at him, an unfamiliar expression on his face.

“Look, Vasco,” he began, “can we–?”

“I thought you wanted to go hunting,” Vasco interrupted. “I’ve been waiting with the dogs and the horses for more than an hour!”

Roger’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry, I–”

Vasco pushed past him, striding angrily into the room. It was a serious breach of etiquette but he didn’t care. His dander was up and he was tired of playing games. Once inside, he was confronted by the lord’s tailor and apprentice, both of whom were appalled by his rudeness. He ignored them, whirling on Roger. The boy, wrapped in a cloak, stood before him defiantly.

“I did not invite you inside, Vasco,” he stated coldly, blue eyes flashing. “Leave us!”

Vasco should have retreated but he stood his ground, spitting, “No! I canceled my drills this afternoon for you. Now get ready. We’re going out.”

There was a long ominous silence before Roger finally capitulated. He took a deep breath and exhaled, letting his shoulders fall. “Fine,” he said, “but not until you help me talk some sense into these cretins.” He jerked his chin over at the tailor and apprentice, drawing the cloak more tightly around his shoulders. “They are intent on making me a laughing stock.”

“My lord,” Vasco began, realizing belatedly that he’d inserted himself into a situation that he knew nothing about. “What is–?”

“There is to be a feast in honor of Prince Edward,” Roger explained, “and my mother has been to the city to order new clothes for me. This,” he loosened the cloak slightly, revealing a doublet of exquisite workmanship beneath, “is the result. But I refuse to be seen in public wearing it. It’s not manly!”

While Vasco stared at his charge uncertainly, the tailor piped up. “I was telling his lordship that ‘tis the latest fashion at court. He doesn’t believe me. Says I’m tryin’ a-make a fool of him!”

Vasco looked from the tailor to Roger, sensing that his role–especially after barging in uninvited–was to take the boy’s side. The problem was that Vasco had never been a particularly astute diplomat. “The doublet looks fine, Roger. Why don’t you like it?”

The lad rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m quite aware that the fabric is fine, you big idiot. It’s the cut of the thing I dislike intensely.”

“What about it?” Vasco pressed, angry at being called an idiot. “I can’t see if you keep the cloak wrapped about yourself.”

Roger’s eyes narrowed. “If I show you, you have to promise not to laugh. And don’t ever tell anyone! If word gets out about–”

“Just show me!” Vasco ordered sharply.

“Alright,” Roger muttered, letting go of the cloak, “you asked for it.”

When the robe finally fell open and slid down the boy’s slender shoulders to the floor, Vasco studied him intently, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about. Finally, he realized that the trio were waiting for him to speak. “I’m no judge of these things but it looks like a standard doublet and hose,” he observed. “Nothing I haven’t seen any number of nobles wearing before.”

It was true. Roger wore a well-fitted doublet made from sapphire-colored silk, brocaded with silver threading. The matching hose appeared to be woven from silk as well. Vasco shook his head, the outfit must have cost the d’Amory’s a fortune! The blue dye alone was worth a king’s ransom.

At nineteen, Roger was finally starting to grow into his frame. Below the waist, he possessed a man’s body with solid legs and a full codpiece that Vasco knew he was very proud of. Unlike other men, the lad had no need for stuffing; the enormous bulge was all his own. Vasco, for his part, couldn’t have cared less. Roger might have an elephant trunk dangling between his legs and it wouldn’t have gotten his notice.

Above the waist, Roger was still slight. His shoulders were narrow and he lacked any definition in his chest. The doublet, however, exploited the lad’s lithe form, drawing attention to his lean grace. Roger’s long brown hair hung loose, falling down onto his shoulders. He’d shaved the few hairs on his face, making his cleft chin more noticeable. His greyish blue eyes were fixed on Vasco’s face and his jaw was clenched.

“You look good,” Vasco pronounced, causing Roger to hunch his shoulders. “Now change into your hunting gear and let’s get going. I have to be back before dinner.” He was turning to go when Roger stopped him.

“It’s not the front I’m worried about, you dimwit,” he stated.

Vasco halted, looking back at him. “What do you mean?”

“This is what I mean!” Roger said, quickly turning his back to Vasco and presenting him with his bottom.

“What are you–?” Vasco started to say but stopped when he took note of the boy’s hind end. Belatedly, he understood Roger’s objection to the outfit. In back, the doublet was cut exceedingly short and there was no fabric to drape over Roger’s silk-covered buttocks. The hose were so tight and thin that they left absolutely nothing to the imagination, riding deep into the cleft of the lad’s arse cheeks. Roger d’Amory, Vasco noticed for the first time, had a very prominent backside.

“It’s obscene to display myself in such a manner!” Roger shouted over his shoulder. “I cannot possibly go to a feast dressed like this!”

“Nonsense!” the tailor insisted, tugging Roger by the elbow over to a polished silver mirror and turning him toward it. “You look quite excellent, my lord! Your betrothed, Anais, will be pleased to be on your arm when she sees you dressed like this.”

“Vasco,” Roger demanded, ignoring the tailor. “What do you think?”

Vasco shook himself, lifting a hand to rub at his temples. For some reason, he felt light-headed and was having trouble catching his breath. He wondered briefly if he was coming down with something. “I-I-I,” he stammered before turning and departing the room, “have to get some air. Meet me at the stables when you’re done here.”

***

Roger appeared, dressed in his old riding leathers, about a half hour later. He was still sullen, trudging along with his head down and a frown on his face but he brightened when he saw Vasco standing with his horse, a pretty cremello mare, already saddled. Two of the best hounds in the kennel were tethered beside her. They started yelping excitedly when they spotted the boy.

“They wouldn’t alter it,” he informed Vasco, kneeling down to pet the happy hounds. “Mother said I was being childish. I don’t know how I’ll ever face Anais, Vasco! She will want out of our marriage contract!”

“No, she won’t! And I don’t know why you’re so bothered by it,” Vasco said. “If it is the fashion at court, Edward and the rest of the nobility will be dressed much the same way.”

“Would you wear such an outfit?”

“I could never afford an outfit like that,” Vasco replied. “I have only one pair of hose and an old, patched doublet. I am barely presentable.”

“Don’t dodge the issue!” Roger huffed. He started to say more but changed tack, “I would change places with you in an instant. Would that I were as big and strong as you! A true fighter who has already seen many battles. You’re tall, too. Not short like me. And cursed with a–”

“Cursed?” Vasco laughed. “Hardly! You’re a young lord who is betrothed to a beautiful woman and stands to inherit one of the largest estates in England!”

“You don’t understand.”

Vasco put his hands on his hips. “Tell me what I’m missing then. It all seems clear to me.”

Roger stared unhappily at the ground, steadfastly refusing to look at him. He stood there for a long time, warring with himself, before saying in a low voice, “I lied, Vasco. The whore laughed at me last night.”

Vasco smiled. “Ah, so now the truth about your adventure at the brothel comes out.” He softened at Roger’s angry look, though. “Whores should know better than to tease their customers.”

“She couldn’t help it,” Roger admitted unhappily. “She tried not to laugh when I removed my pants and she caught sight of my ridiculously big arse but I still heard her giggle. It took her a long time to coax my trusty ‘pork sword’ to stand up again.”

“Wounded your pride, did she?” Vasco asked, settling his arm over Roger’s shoulders. “It’s alright, lad. You’ll grow into your body. Boys always develop from the legs up. You should have seen me at your age. All bones and knobs! Got teased mercilessly by the girls.”

“Nonsense!” Roger countered. “You forget that I knew you when you were my age and you were never less than heroic. I am convinced that you sprang forth from your sire’s loins fully grown like the god Ares himself!”

“Looks like someone skipped tutoring,” Vasco commented dryly, “because it was the god Dionysus who sprang forth from Zeus’ thigh.”

“Oh, whatever!” Roger huffed. “You’re much more an Ares than a Dionysus.”

Vasco smiled, touched by the comparison. “Don’t worry, lad. You’re already well on your way to being a breaker of hearts and a basher of heads! Just give yourself some time.”

Roger looked up at him hopefully. “You think so? Really?”

Vasco winked, lowering his hand to swat him playfully on the behind. “I know so! Now get up in the saddle. It’s already past midday!”

***

“‘Tis too late in the day to hunt deer,” Vasco informed Roger as they rode out through the stone walls surrounding the manor. He held up his hand at Roger’s bark of protest, adding, “But I will show you how to use a hunting bow and we can do some target practice. Afterward, we can take the dogs out and look for hare.”

“I see you brought along a longbow, too,” Roger commented, taking note of the twin bows slung over Vasco’s shoulder.

“That’s right, lad,” Vasco said, grinning. “You need to work on your strength if you’re going to use one. This is a war longbow, different from the one you’re used to training on. It requires a man to draw it.”

The day was a fine one, being early in the spring of the year. The fields were touched with the green shoots of winter wheat. In the forest, the rowan and beech trees were budding. The air smelled fresh and pure, the breeze ruffling Roger’s long hair. Vasco rode behind him, watching the boy critically in the saddle, occasionally calling on him to fix his sloppy form. They gradually wound their way up the hills, following a wood cutter’s path until they reached the summit of the low ridge overlooking the d’Amory estate. They paused to take in the view, Roger surveying his future lands with pride.

“There,” Roger said, pointing to the west. “See that line of smoke? I’ll wager that Prince Edward is camped there.”

Vasco turned and followed his finger, noting the thread of greyish haze rising far away. He nodded, saying, “He’ll be here the day after tomorrow. His army might be triumphant after their victory over Robert the Bruce but they are still tired and their wounded can’t travel far.”

News of the Black Prince’s exploits, summarily defeating and exiling the would-be King of the Scots, had traveled fast. The d’Amory’s had sent many men to fight with the prince and the prince was rewarding them with a royal visit. Vasco was still a bit sore at Lord d’Amory for not letting him fight; the man had insisted that Vasco remain behind to captain a skeleton crew of guards.

Reading his thoughts, Roger placed a hand on his shoulder, promising, “One day soon, my friend, you and I will ride to war together. I want you always at my side.”

Vasco was startled to find tears filling the corners of his eyes with these words and wiped hastily at his face before the lad spotted them. Clearing his throat, he grunted, “I’ll see to the horses.”

They rested their horses, letting the dogs run loose so they could stretch their legs. While Roger stood upon the rocky outcropping, Vasco occupied himself by setting up an impromptu archery target. Consisting of a large log upon which one could place progressively smaller chunks of wood, it was crude but would serve its purpose.

“Come, Roger,” he called out. “Let’s start with the longbow.”

Gamely, Roger paced over and took up position on the line that Vasco had marked on the ground. Ever the cocky one, he puffed out his chest as he took the bow and attempted to pull back the string…only to fail miserably; he could barely draw it halfway. Finally, he gave up, complaining, “You did this on purpose, Vasco! Are you intent on utterly humiliating me today? There’s no way I can draw this bow!”

“Nonsense,” Vasco growled. “You’ve been practicing every Sunday with me since you turned seven! The technique is the same, you just have to put more muscle into it.”

When Roger still refused to try, Vasco sighed. “Here,” he instructed, moving to the boy’s side, “I will show you.” He stood behind the lad, spreading his feet on either side of him. Thus situated, he put his left hand upon the boy’s and gripped the bow. Placing his other hand on Roger’s right, he knocked an arrow and drew the string. With their combined muscle, it pulled back easily.

“Widen your stance,” he ordered. “Put your legs against mine.” Roger complied and Vasco put his chin on the lad’s shoulder. “Now brace yourself.”

After initially resisting, Roger finally gave in and settled his body firmly against his own. Vasco got a whiff of the lad’s scent, a pleasant combination of sweet milk, barley and oak. It had a strange effect on him and he had to gasp for air again just like when he’d visited Roger’s chambers.

“Vasco? Are you alright?”

Vasco clenched his jaw, struggling to regain control over himself. After some moments, he was finally able to grunt, “M’fine! Now shoot!” Together, they loosed the arrow. It sang through the air in a high arc before landing with a satisfying thud in the log that Vasco had set up as the target. “There,” he said, “now do it on your own.”

He started to step away but Roger stopped him, refusing to let go of his hands and pressing even closer against him. “No!” he said. “Let’s try it again.”

Vasco shook him off. “Enough! You already know the position. Just put some back into it!”

He stepped away, head spinning. He had no idea what was going on with him. Should he see a healer? He’d been feeling fine before now. He stood there, breathing deeply and waiting for his heart to stop pounding. Slowly, his pulse calmed and his spinning thoughts slowed until he was able to turn back to Roger. The boy was struggling to draw the bow and, when he did, the arrow invariably fell far short of the target.

Vasco sighed to himself and pulled out the hunting bow, offering it to him. “That’s enough. Try this one. I have no doubt you will find it easier.”

Roger proved to be better at handling the hunting bow and managed to hit small targets with surprising accuracy. Vasco’s mood was elevated watching him and he lavished him with praise, even hugging him when he nailed an old bird’s nest in a far off tree.

The hounds were restless by then and the horses were eager to go, stamping their hooves impatiently while Vasco saddled them. In a short time, they were off, heading back down to the open fields where Vasco knew of a rabbit warren. By then, the clouds had cleared and the sun blazed down upon them, making them sweat. Vasco pulled off his hat and mopped his brow, giving Roger a smile before urging his horse down the trail.

About halfway down, Roger’s mare pulled up lame. While Vasco waited, the boy hopped off his mount and examined the hoof, shaking his head in consternation. “She stepped on a sharp stone,” he called out. “She can’t be ridden.”

Vasco dismounted, squatting down beside him. He squinted at the hoof, noting the blood oozing from within the frog of her foot. “You’re right, I will have to dress that when we get back to the stables or it’ll get infected.” He paused, glancing over at Roger. “You can ride with me on Rocio. He can carry both of us.”

He stuffed a piece of clean rag inside the mare’s hoof and tethered her to his stallion’s saddle. Mounting Rocio, he held out a hand. Roger looked at it stonily; it was clear that his manly pride was injured by the thought of having to share a horse. 

“Come on, boy!” he urged. “It’ll be just like the old days.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” Roger growled. “I’m a grown man now, Vasco.”

“That’s right,” Vasco teased. “It’s been, what? Eight hours since you lost your virginity.”

Scowling, Roger pushed his hand away and swung up in the saddle behind him. Yanking the reins away from Vasco, he took charge of Rocio, urging the horse into a canter. Vasco was stunned by this abrupt reversal of roles and it took him a while to simmer down; he didn’t like being crammed between Roger and the cantle of his saddle like a mere stripling. Gradually, though, he relaxed. He knew that Roger was feeling bruised after being laughed at by the whore and then being forced by his mother to wear the silly garments. If it made him feel better to boss Vasco around, he could afford to be indulgent. Roger was going to be his lord someday, after all.

After a half hour or so,  they arrived at a grassy hillside overlooking the lake. “The warren is over there,” Vasco said, pointing beyond the crest of the hill. “I can take the dogs to the far side and let them loose. Be ready with your bow to shoot at any rabbit that bolts!”

Roger needed no further encouragement and jumped down off Rocio. He pulled out and strung the bow while Vasco hobbled the horses and got the hounds ready. They were baying excitedly by then, sensing that their time had finally come.

Vasco gave the warren a wide berth, leading the dogs far around it and allowing Roger to get in position. It was strenuous going, mostly because he had to fight to keep the eager dogs reined in and he was pouring with sweat by the time he finally let them off their lead. They took off, baying crazily, and scared up a rabbit within a few moments. The rabbit, a big buck, headed right toward Roger but the lad soon discovered that hitting live animals was more challenging than shooting a stationary target. He missed the buck but did eventually succeed in killing a brace of rabbits. They dressed them together, chatting amiably, and then rinsed off in the lake afterward.

Squatting down to wash his hands, Vasco looked up when he heard a splash. A moment later, Roger burst out of the water, crying at the top of his lungs, “IT’S FREEZING!” Vasco smiled to himself and continued washing, cleaning his knife in the cold water. Unbelievably, Roger didn’t immediately run out of the lake but continued splashing around in the water, eventually diving underwater again and surfacing in front of Vasco.

“Join me, Vasque!” he entreated. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Oh? Then why are your lips blue?”

Roger laughed. “And my cock has shrunk up smaller than a babe’s but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself!” He playfully splashed Vasco, laughing at his indignant shout. “Come on, you craven bastard! Come in and swim with me!”

Vasco frowned, retreating far enough from the water’s edge to be clear of further splashes. He really didn’t feel like swimming. True, he was hot and the prospect of cooling off was appealing…but he really didn’t like being cold. Being raised in Navarre, he’d never gotten used to the chill of England. 

In the end, he reluctantly disrobed and waded into the frigid water, making a big fuss the entire time. Roger whooped with delight, swimming over and coaxing him to dive under. Vasco did so but then beat a hasty retreat, running back to the waiting horse blanket he’d spread by the shore. From this vantage point, he leaned back on his elbows and watched his young lord cavort in the shallows.

Roger whistled and the hounds came running, leaping into the water and swimming over to join him. He dove under and grabbed the legs of one of the dogs, causing it to bark excitedly. He rose out of the water, lunging playfully at the animal and hopping backward when it jumped up at him. The boy and the dogs continued playing for some time, eventually working their way up onto the shore where they wrestled in the grass next to Vasco.

Vasco watched them with increasing discomfort, especially when Roger got down on all fours and turned away from him. He flushed, willing himself to look away as he got the full view of the boy’s naked arse. There was no denying it; the lad had really big buttocks. They were both plump and shapely, seeming to be made of equal parts fat and muscle. And they were hairy. Very hairy.

He was unwillingly entranced. 

He’d seen Roger naked many times and had thought nothing of it. Today, though, it was like he was seeing him for the first time; the first time as a grown man. Roger was clearly no longer a boy, the huge cock and heavy set of balls swinging between his parted thighs was proof of that.

Oblivious to his scrutiny, Roger continued romping around. He was utterly unselfconscious, doing nothing to conceal his private parts. As Vasco continued to stare, he put his hands out before him, sticking his big arse in the air and arching his back. “Grrrrr, ruff! Ruf!” he growled, teasing the delighted hounds who immediately leapt at him, barking happily.

Vasco’s mouth went dry as Roger spread his legs and pushed his wide bottom backward. Time seemed to halt as his full arse cheeks parted. And then there it was! His tender, little, pink rosebud peeked out from its hiding place deep in the cleft of those hefty buttocks. It was a perfect pucker, surrounded by the cutest, curliest brown hairs. Vasco’s pulse started pounding as he watched the boy’s hole open and then close. It was almost an invitation.

He turned away hurriedly, profoundly embarrassed. What had come over him? Men didn’t–

“Vasco,” Roger called out then, “why is your ‘soldier’ standing up at attention?”

Vasco jerked in surprise, looking over to catch Roger staring at him. There was a horrible moment when he realized the unthinkable: His cock was fully erect and straining, aching for release. Worse, he was completely naked, lying on his back with nothing covering his shame. He immediately cupped his hands over himself, wincing when he realized his hands weren’t big enough to provide much coverage. He was a big man, you see, big in every way. Even Roger’s masterpiece was nothing compared to his own. His huge cock jutted out from under his hands, dark foreskin peeling back to expose his glistening glans.

He knew he should move, grab his clothes and flee, but he was frozen in place, trapped in Roger’s gaze. He swallowed, face flushing deep red beneath his beard. The boy was still down on his haunches, thighs spread and butt pointing directly at Vasco. From over his shoulder, he looked from Vasco’s face to his crotch and back again. Very slowly, his eyebrows lifted and his eyes went wide. 

Vasco was trapped by his gaze, waiting breathlessly for the boy to either flee or reprimand him or at the very least cover himself up. Curiously, though, he did none of these things. With his eyes locked on Vasco, he slowly straightened and, ignoring the dogs jumping around him, got up and walked down to the lake. As Vasco watched, he squatted with his back to him and commenced splashing himself with water, rinsing the grass and dirt off of him. He took his time, making no effort to cover himself.

Belatedly, Vasco jerked into motion, gathering his discarded clothing and getting dressed. His erection stubbornly refused to go down, though, and he had a devil of a time stuffing it into his pants. When he was finally clothed, he turned and found Roger drying himself on the blanket, in no particular hurry to cover himself and his stiff…Vasco blinked, realizing he must be seeing things, and turned away.

***

They didn’t speak on the way back to the manor. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly tense between them, just…charged. Vasco was profoundly unsettled. Men did not behave like this! He was married and, even though he and Inez would never be more than friends, she did her duty to him in bed. They had a child together and would have more. That was who he was. Yes, that was what a man was for.

He’d never for a moment caught himself looking at another man in the way that he’d been staring at Roger. Then again, he’d never been treated to a view like that one, either. That was the first time he’d seen another man’s arsehole. If you’d asked him prior to that day, he would have said arseholes were disgusting, especially hairy ones. It was part of the anatomy he didn’t dwell on for obvious reasons.

And that was why he was caught so off guard: He’d never expected the sight to be arousing.

And he’d never thought a man’s behind could be so damned beautiful.

Yes, as much as he hated to admit it, Roger d’Amory had a lovely arse.

There.

It was done.

He’d admitted that he wanted Roger’s arse.

And his hole.

More than that, he wanted to–

He violently shoved the thought away from his mind, trying in vain to make himself think of something else.

When had Roger grown up to be so handsome and desirable?

He’d known the lad since he was seven, a tiny, towheaded urchin who followed him around like a lost puppy. He knew Roger better than anyone else, better even than his wife, Inez. And he did love him, but like a brother. Or maybe a son.

Now maybe something more?

Roger was a man now.

He would be nineteen in another month or so and would reach his majority a year after that. He was going to be the lord of the manor soon. His father had been grooming him for the role and Vasco did not doubt the lad would make a good executive. He excelled at everything he set his mind to. He was a good man.

And a beautiful one.

Vasco sighed.

He wanted Roger so badly!

The lad didn’t make it easy on him. When he mounted Rocio, extending his hand down to Vasco, Vasco hesitated. He really should go back to the manor on foot. The last thing he should do is sit on the saddle with the boy. He couldn’t trust himself.

“Come on,” Roger urged. “Up, up, up!”

Vasco reluctantly accepted the proffered hand and allowed Roger to swing him up into the saddle. He was confused, though, when the lad scooted forward, making room for Vasco on the saddle behind him. In a moment, he was settled there with the lad’s generous buttocks stuffed between his outspread thighs.

Roger leaned back, handing over the reins to him.

His scent was thick in Vasco’s nostrils, richer now due to his sweat-soaked clothes.

He smelled good.

“Let’s go, Vasque.”

They set out, heading for home. The emotions washing over him were so confusing. And his cock didn’t help matters. It had grown rigidly erect as soon as it made contact with Roger’s soft, full bottom through the relatively thin membranes of their riding leathers. The leathers were slick with sweat, molded tightly to their bodies. They were like a second skin, so sheer and so moist. And then there was the steady up and down, up and down, up and down as Rocio trotted homeward. It was excruciating! Vasco nearly orgasmed three times. He never thought he’d be so happy to jump off a horse when they finally clopped into the stables.

His was so discombobulated that he barely had the presence of mind to see to the mare’s hoof. He cleaned and dressed it in a daze, unaware of anything beside his throbbing erection and the memory of Roger’s naked arse haunting him like a lascivious ghost.

“Vasque?”

He looked up and lost himself in Roger’s gaze. Swallowing thickly, he managed to croak, “Yes?”

“I’m going back to my room but I’ll see you at dinner, right?”

Why is he asking me this? Vasco blinked, belatedly catching the significant look that the lad was giving him. His cock throbbed and he felt it spurt, causing him to wince. “Yes, Roger, I will be there.”

“Good.”

Vasco watched the lad saunter away with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

***

The priest was missing when he went to the chapel. Instead, there was a small, tonsured monk he’d never seen before. The man introduced himself as Brother Cadfael, visiting the estate from his monastery near the border with Gwynedd. 

“Father Robert is away ministering to Edward’s troops,” Cadfael informed him. “And I am here to collect some herbs he left for me.”

He was a short, stocky man with nut-brown skin and a pleasant, easy demeanor. Vasco found himself warming to him despite his distressed mood. The fact that the good monk possessed obvious scars from battle on his hands and forearms also helped. So, he was a fighting man before he took his vows, Vasco thought with approval. 

“What can I do for you?”

Vasco gave a little start, realizing how vacant he must seem. “I’m sorry, I was hoping to confess something.” He cleared his throat, which was unusually dry, continuing, “I mean I need to confess something. Can you hear me in the father’s place?”

Cadfael smiled. “I’m no priest and cannot offer you absolution but I’m more than willing to hear your confession.” He motioned to a bench off the side of the sacristy. “Here, sit with me and tell me what is troubling you, my friend.”

The monk settled himself on the bench, gathering his robes about himself. When Vasco hesitated, he patted the seat next to him. After further deliberation, Vasco finally consented and sat down beside him.

It took him a long time to figure out what to say. Everything that came to mind was just so…wrong…he couldn’t even make his mouth form the words. For his part, Cadfael seemed content just to sit there. He possessed a certain innate peace that radiated out from him like a balm. It wasn’t long before it took effect on Vasco and he found the courage to plunge ahead.

“It’s about a boy.”

Cadfael sighed softly. “Ah, I see.”

Vasco turned to look at him. “A boy I’ve known for years. A boy I practically raised as my own son. A boy who is now a man.”

The monk nodded. “The best kind.”

“Brother,” Vasco announced, “I will not lie: I want to make a woman out of him.” He fixed his gaze upon Cadfael’s face, waiting for the inevitable judgment that had to come on the heels of these words. He was perplexed when he encountered none. Instead, the monk remained silent.

After studying Vasco for a long time, he finally asked, “Am I to gather you have feelings for this lad?”

Vasco nodded. “I…I think I love him.”

“Of course, you do. You’ve already said as much.”

Vasco moaned, dropping his head in hands. “But can’t you see? It’s impossible! A man cannot love another man like he does a woman! It’s wrong!”

The monk answered this with a question. “Is loving ever wrong, my friend?”

“It says so in the Bible,” Vasco pointed out. “Isn’t that why Sodom fell?”

Cadfael smiled, leaning back on the heels of his hands. “If I remember correctly, the people in Sodom weren’t guilty of loving each other, it was quite a different sin that led to God’s retribution.”

“You’re twisting the meaning and you know it.”

“And you seem intent on finding sin where there is none.” Cadfael reached out and patted his hand, leaving his warm palm on Vasco’s wrist for a moment before withdrawing it. “Now, I expect that Father Robert would have a different reaction upon hearing your tale but I am no priest and we are a long way from Rome. In my life, I’ve seen many atrocities and done my share of wrongs. Never, though, have I witnessed a love that wasn’t beautiful in its own way. If you love this lad, then you have my blessing.”

“But I’m married!” Vasco protested. “If I touch the boy, I will betray my wife!”

Cadfael was silent for a moment, contemplating this. Gradually, a smile crossed his lips as he mused, “Hmmm…adultery. Now that definitely adds a layer of moral complexity, doesn’t it?” Vasco hung his head while the monk pondered the issue. After a time, he turned to him, inquiring, “Are you in love with your wife like you are with this boy…who is now a man?”

“Well, no, of course not!” Vasco admitted. “Our marriage was arranged when we were still children. There has never been anything beyond fondness between us. And respect.”

Cadfael was silent, absorbing this. He was quiet so long that Vasco wondered if he’d fallen asleep because his eyes were half-closed and there was a dreamy expression on his face. Finally, though, he stirred and fixed Vasco with a knowing but sad gaze. “There is no clean path out of this, my friend. One way or another, someone will be hurt if you pursue your love for this boy. The question is: Is that reason enough not to follow your heart?”

***

Roger’s Tale, Part II

When Roger left the stables, he walked into an entirely new world. It was like before that moment he had been looking through a small, dingy window in a small, dingy room. Now, though, he was free. Not only had the window been shattered but the room had been as well. He stepped out of the wreckage and smiled. He was free for the first time in his life.

Vasco de Pamplona.

The man who had been his constant companion for all of these years.

The man who had all but raised him, who had taught him everything, who had always been Roger’s favorite.

Who would have guessed?

It was so perverse that it was almost funny. The very thing that he hated most about himself had actually turned out to be his greatest treasure. It was his huge arse that finally gave him what he’d wanted more than anything else since he was a small boy: To be Vasco’s equal. No, that’s not quite right. What he wanted most of all was for Vasco to see him. Really see him. Not just as a responsibility, a duty or even a friend. He wanted the man to see him as more than all of that.

Oh, sure, he was a noble lord who outranked Vasco. That was all well and good but it didn’t change the fact that he was otherwise Vasco’s inferior in every way. He was smaller, weaker, clumsier, and ugler. He would never attain the big man’s superior status as warrior, protector and provider. He knew this, knew it! Even when he was lord of the estate, wearing the mantle of his many titles, he would still be less than Vasco.

But not now.

Now he knew the truth…

Vasco wanted him.

And would do anything to get him.

It was against all the rules of nature and of God but Roger didn’t care.

He owned Vasco de Pamplona’s heart.

And–he thought, smiling wickedly to himself–his groin.

***

They rode out together the next morning with the hounds trailing along behind. To anyone watching, they looked the same as ever: Captain Vasco and his charge, the young lordling, out to hunt and practice archery. The war bow was slung across Vasco’s broad back and the hunting bow across Roger’s comparatively slender one. Their faces were neutral, almost expressionless. Yes, just the guard captain and the youth. Nothing unusual, nothing noteworthy.

Inwardly, Roger was awash with a sea of emotions. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the handsome captain–his handsome captain. Vasco was particularly stunning that morning. His chiseled features and short-cropped hair made him look even more manly than Roger remembered. His immense, muscular torso was all but bursting out of the new leather jerkin he’d donned for the occasion. His thighs bulged against the riding leathers and his arse–that big, solid, meaty arse–was alluringly framed by fancy piping stitched along the sides. And, when Roger rode near enough, he caught a glimpse of that masterpiece lurking inside the pouch of the man’s codpiece. It was so big that its outline was clearly visible, a coiled, fat serpent ready to strike once it was freed…

“What?” Roger asked when he noticed Vasco looking at him.

“You,” came the gruff reply. “You are trouble. I can smell it on you. You have nothing good in mind for me today.”

Roger smiled shyly. It was true that he was overwrought with lust and longed to consummate his long-simmering feelings for the big man. Now that he’d finally admitted his feelings for Vasco and the man had confirmed them, he couldn’t wait.

But…

But…

He was also filled with another, deeper emotion that took him a while to identify as regret. Part of him was sad. It was silly, really. Silly but nonetheless true. He was already missing his old relationship with Vasco. He missed the innocence. The clear boundaries. The clean, pure, fresh essence of love he felt for Vasco. It was a boy’s love. Hero worship. Admiration. Respect.

Now everything had changed. Ever since the afternoon before when he spotted Vasco staring at him with his enormous erection bobbing luridly on his lap, their relationship had changed and could never go back to the way it was. They had entered new, uncharted territory. Very adult territory and Roger didn’t know if he was ready for this new, forbidden love between them.

“Here.”

Vasco had pulled up on his reins, bringing Rocio to a halt. The stallion reared his head and snorted, irritated at his rider for interrupting his morning cantor. Roger drew up beside him, placing a palm on his mare’s neck and rubbing gently.

“What, Vasco?” he queried, his voice tremulous.

“Look at me.”

Roger did and was stunned to find Vasco’s soft, brown eyes filled with tears. Roger blinked. “What’s wrong, Vasque? What happened?”

The big, handsome man shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. I just love you. I really, really love you.”

Roger didn’t even remember dismounting. All he knew was that the next instant he was up on Rocio’s saddle, cradling Vasco in his arms. After a while, he lifted his head and Vasco cupped his face in his huge, calloused hands. They kissed.

It was a tender, almost furtive kiss.

And then they were naked from the waist down.

Roger pulled back in surprise and looked down to see Vasco had used his hunting knife to expertly slice through the stitching on both their breeches. The leather fell away and drifted down to the ground at Rocio’s hooves.

And then they were trotting along again, this time with Roger sitting comfortably between Vasco’s muscular thighs, feeling the man’s erection lodged in the cleft of his arse like it had been made for nothing else. They rode like that through the forest, finally reaching a cool, clear stream that tumbled down from the steep hillside above.

Roger hopped off, mindful that Vasco’s eyes were glued to his big arse. He smiled, savoring the big man’s equally big arse as he climbed down off the saddle. Vasco caught his stare and turned away from him, cheeks coloring and huge erection bobbing up and down before him.

“What?” Roger pressed. “It’s only fair. I know what you want to do to me with your ‘trusty sword’ and I confess that I want to do the same thing to you with mine.” He waggled his equally huge cock provocatively back at Vasco, laughing at the way the man flinched. “If one of us plays the woman, so does the other. We’re a pair, you and me. Two big cocks and two big arses. There must be a reason for it.” 

When Vasco remained silent, eyes studying the ground, Roger took charge and led him over to the stream. Sitting down on the rocks, he stiffened briefly at the wet chill on his generous behind and then patted his lap, urging Vasco to sit down.

Vasco swallowed, looking apprehensively at Roger’s straining cock. “I can’t. It’s wrong. And it will hurt!”

Roger laughed, spitting in his hand and slicking up his cock. “If it hurts, I’m doing it wrong. Now c’mon. This is the only way I’ll let you touch my arse. I get to bugger you first.”

It took a lot of coaxing but he finally managed to get Vasco to squat down onto his lap. The big man’s cheeks were crimson as he lowered himself down and Roger watched his big, hairy, meaty arse cheeks part. He spat in his hand and reached up touch Vasco in the one place he never thought he’d ever touch. The sensation of the man’s surprising large, tight arsehole made him gasp and Vasco braced. The sheer unreality of what they were about to do made Roger’s hand tremble but he didn’t stop. He smeared his saliva liberally over that tight rosebud, working a finger inside as he did so.

“Ah, fuck!” Vasco cursed, clenching down hard on the finger. “Be gentle!”

Vasco’s broad back was to him and Roger had a clear view of his immense, muscled body. Those broad shoulders tapered down to his narrow waist before flaring back out into those luscious, firm buttocks. His big feet were planted on either side of Roger’s legs and the breeze wafting toward his nostrils was thick with Vasco’s virile scent.

“You’re so beautiful,” Roger praised. “You’re my man. My only man.”

“I feel like a woman,” Vasco grumbled before yelping in protest as Roger slapped him hard across the arse. 

Dinner was in some ways the same as ever. He sat at the high table between his mother and Vasco. For the occasion, Vasco had donned a new leather jerkin that accentuated his broad shoulders. The lacing at the collar was loose, exposing his furry chest and ridges of his bulging pectorals. It was almost crazy how muscular the man was.

And handsome.

He’d combed his short, thick, black hair, leaving it sticking jauntily up on top. The hair on the sides of his head was trimmed very short, like his beard. He possessed a lantern jaw with a wide chin. His features, though, were refined and his brown eyes intelligent. Unlike many men of his age, he still possessed all of his teeth.

Standing up when Roger approached and pulling out his chair for him, Vasco bowed deeply. Roger thanked him and sat down, keenly aware of Vasco’s feverish gaze upon him the whole while. He ignored him–or seemed to–exchanging pleasantries with his mother while they waited for the servants to bring out the trays of their supper. The mood in the great hall was festive even if the crowd was smaller than usual due to the absence of so many fighting men. Everyone was anxiously awaiting Prince Edward’s arrival. There was much talk of the events and celebrations that would take place. That spring, everyone knew, would be a blessed one for the d’Amory estate.

Aware that Vasco was sitting frozen beside him, Roger’s hand crept out under the table and found the big man’s leg. Vasco twitched but didn’t pull away. Roger smiled to himself as he squeezed. Vasco’s enormous thigh was so muscular that it felt like squeezing rock.

They sat like that throughout the meal, Roger’s hand on Vasco’s leg and–eventually–Vasco’s hand covering his own. When he cast a furtive glance over at the captain, the expression on his face was dreamlike. Truly, he’d never seen Vasco like this and it made him feel both happy and bold.

He excused himself a few minutes after Vasco, rushing through the halls of the manor to cut him off by the garden. Vasco was nothing if not predictable; he always returned to his modest cottage the same way. That evening was no exception; he arrived at the trellis just in time to hear the big man’s boots ringing out on the flagstones.

It was a cool evening and dark, no moon overhead to light the way. It didn’t really matter, though; both Roger and Vasco knew the grounds of the manor by heart. Thus it was that Roger sank back into the still-dead foliage of the trellis and lay in wait, his prick stiffening as his quarry drew ever closer.

He pounced at the just the right moment, catching the captain completely by surprise. He had him locked in his embrace before the man could move a muscle.

“You’re mine!” Roger crowed, exultant. “Did you really think you would get away from me so easily?”

After initially going stiff in his arms, Vasco relaxed and then tensed again. “Roger!” he hissed. “What if someone sees us?”

“Oh, bollocks! I don’t give a fuck!” Roger swore. “I only care about you. And now that I have you, I won’t let you go without a kiss.”

“This is wrong, my lord.” 

These were just words, mere words! Roger knew it because Vasco’s voice lacked all conviction. “I am Roger,” he corrected. “Your Roger. I’ve always been your Roger. You know that, right?”

There was a long pause and then, “Yes.”

Roger stood up on his tiptoes then and sealed Vasco’s mouth with a kiss. The big man went stiff as a corpse at first, his soft lips frozen, but just when Roger was beginning to worry that he’d misjudged everything, Vasco responded with a ferocity that took his breath away. He grabbed at his body, savagely pressing into him and grinding his prominent erection against Roger’s equally prominent one. Throwing the lad back on his feet, he opened his mouth and devoured him, probing him with his long, thick, fat tongue and leaving Roger gasping for breath. Only when he was growing lightheaded did the captain release him, settling him back on his feet and patting his ripe bottom. He didn’t let go, though. Roger knew that Vasco was reluctant to part. He knew it because he felt the same way.