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“Oh, you’re Idunet’s favored, aren’t you,” he said lightly. “That’s interesting. My friend is Angarat’s favored. He’s currently trying to convince me that I am also Angarat’s, but I’m feeling a bit agnostic about it. Sort of. They’re batting me back and forth on some fucking quests like two cats with a ball of yarn.”
“Angarat made a wager with me that if Lyford—that’s my friend—ew, have I been calling him my friend? He’s not really my friend, he’s just some awful man I know, and he has the most beautiful cock in the world—
“You’ve been sitting down for thirty seconds and have in that time managed to thoroughly confuse the issue about what your relationship status is and whether you’re actively interested in being fucked cross-eyed today.”
“He fucked my thighs two days ago,” Tam said bitterly. “You know, like an absolute son of a bitch.”
You’re an idiot.” Tam glared at him. “See, this is why people keep tricking me into being in the bath for conversations like this. I can’t just get out and run away, can I? I’m fucking cornered.”
You were not tricked into being in the bath; you chose to be in the bath. I invited you to make yourself comfortable, and that was your decision. The fact that you aren’t enjoying the consequences does not mean that the responsibility for your discomfort is suddenly mine to account for. That’s on you, Tamerlin.”
“At this point, I don’t think I’ve earned those,” Tam snapped, and froze at the look of triumph in Kel’s eyes. Kel snapped his fingers and pointed at him again. “There it is. There it is.”
You mentioned his dick—many times—” “The only thing worth mentioning about him.”
“No, I’m done. I’m done here. Lyford Manor, you said? Two days ride away? I’m going to go flirt with him.” Tam ground his teeth. “Fine. I don’t care. Fine. Do it. See how that goes for you.” “Great. Would you like to make a wager about it?” Kel said silkily. “I bet he won’t fuck me.” “I hate you. It was not nice to meet you.” “He’s favored of Angarat, and he knows it better than you do. I bet he’ll invite me in, and feed me, and offer me all the hospitality of his house, and talk to me about philosophy and faith, and when I ask if he’d like to go to bed, he’s going to say no thanks.” “He’s
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Shame there isn’t a god of being stupid, otherwise Angarat might have some competition for who gets to claim you.
Read him to filth
But if you want to be loved, really loved, first you have to be you.
that he could do it. He’d prove that Lyford should respect him. He’d prove that he was a stubborn goblin of a person, but he could choose to do something different and use it as a tool. He’d prove that he was... worthwhile.
And then, of course, Lyford would be overcome with a most ardent desire! Yes, that was the thing to focus on—he’d swoon and invite Tam to bed, and Tam would have some excellent victory sex, and he would be the hero who captured the Ram of the Highlands for the first time in hundreds of years, and then maybe finally he’d be a different person, someone he liked more than the person he was now. Someone who could let sweetness and softness happen to him without his throat closing up in fear and suspicion. Someone who could be loved.
Fuck it, I’ll ride Lyford’s dick until he calls your name, how’s that?” “Hm,” said Idunet. “I do miss that boy sometimes. Alright.” “Wait. Wait, that was a joke. Wait, I didn’t mean—
He’d failed. He’d failed. He’d tried his hardest, but it hadn’t mattered, and it had all ended up smashed on the ground.
He was just plain old Tam Becket—the worst possible thing to be—and that truth was so unavoidable that it felt shocking, inevitable, wrong. He didn’t want to be Tam Becket, but there was no escape from the fact that he had to be, that he didn’t get a choice in it.
“Took one look at it and swooned. Never seen one so big, have you.” “Biggest I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t like him. He was smug. Pretentious. Smarmy.” “Certainly he exhibited elements of being an incorrigible twit,” Lyford said. Tam lifted his head and peered at him. “You’re just agreeing with me so I won’t be grouchy.” “Who, me? No, not at all, wouldn’t dream of it. Things are so interesting when you’re grouchy. Kel Gauda? Can’t stand him.”
He pried Lyford off of him, which meant prying the prick’s prick away from him—tragic. “I’ll think about it.”
“We can go again if you’d like to.” Lyford whipped his hands back up.
“Asshole,” he said. Then: “Fuck. Habit. Sorry. Fuck off. Gods, shut up—that was at me. Just—dammit—give me a fucking minute, alright?” “Sure,” said Lyford, so Tam pulled one of the pillows over his head and screamed. “Should I pull out?” “No. Fuck. Sadistic prick.” “For offering to pull out, or for the quest?” “You know what you did,” Tam hissed from under the pillow.
“Lay back down on me,” he snapped. “Why?” “So I can’t fucking run away, you absolute prick.”
He was distantly aware that he was being ridiculous. Lying here in a man’s bed, with that man’s prick up his arse after two magnificent rounds of sex, with love bites on his neck and shoulders, and he couldn’t say Lyford’s given name.
Lyford—whats-his-name, that guy, Nicolau
Lyford—Nicolau? That wasn’t a real person’s name
As Lyford sat in the other squishy chair beside Tam, he looked more amused by this than anything—the sort of objectionable expression that was the entire reason why Tam had not historically given Lyford/Nicolau/the local prick any morning sex after he’d accidentally slept over. (The night before, alas, he had intentionally slept over, which meant the rules were different in the morning. Really, what was he supposed to have done, when Lyford-Nicolau-whatever had been all golden and irresistible and sleepy-eyed and he’d smiled at Tam and rolled over and slid his cock between Tam’s thighs? What
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Lyford—Nicolau, what kind of a name was that—blinked.
He paused for a moment. Ah. Lyford was right, the sight of a gorgeous man cradling an infant really wasn’t fair at all. Tam shook it off sharply.
“Welcome to doing stuff, Lyford.” “Nicolau.” “Neeeeeee-co-lau,” Tam simpered. “See? I can do it. I’m doing it, I’ve done it. Fuck off.”
“That’s the long and short of it, yeah,” Lys said. “Can I make you a cuppa?” “Sure,” said Tam, bewildered. “What the fuck.”
“I couldn’t find any of your books, so I wasn’t sure what kind of system you used.”
Tam remembered that Lyford (Nicolau, this fellow Tam sort of knew)
He’d been doing a lot of work, lately. He’d been trying very hard to be somewhat less of a goblin, and to be helpful with the fields and Angharads he came across, and to be civil to Lyford.
“If you’re going to keep sending people here, do you think we’d better—” “Yes,” said Lyford immediately, and actually climbed over the counter to get to Tam and push him up against the teacup cabinet, even though it would have only been two or three steps more to go around.
He nobly endured the cuddles.
“And I haven’t given up with you.”
Tam’s personal nemesis propped himself up on his elbows and kept being hideously patient.
Nicolau—which was a stupid name—
The next morning, Nicolau(???)
Names, Tam sighed to himself. Names, and the meanings of them and the weight of them. And somehow he was supposed to say Nicolau like it was normal and natural, and never mind what it meant for him to do that.
“Listen to me—say no. Negotiate.” “Why in the world would I negotiate about the Lady of Lambs’ favored ones trying to help my baby?” “Because,” Tam hissed, “Lyford has a really incredible bath and servants to heat all the water you could want. You should insist on getting to use the bath, for the inconvenience we’re putting you to.” “Oh. Right,” she said slowly. “I don’t know, Tam, it seems awfully inconvenient, is there anything his Lordship can offer as compensation for my time?” “Oh no, you’ve driven such a hard bargain, I guess you have me over a barrel here, how would you like all the
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“Let’s get a couple things straight. Number one: You like me more than that other guy. His name is Nicolau Lyford and he thinks he’s Angarat’s gift to the world.” He paused. “One part of him might be, but you don’t need to know about which one. Point is, I’m basically your Uncle Tam, and you like me so much more than him, got it? Second, men are not worth your time. Just remember that for the future. Third, you’ve got one fucking job, and that is to do your best at growing. I want to see you put in some honest bloody effort, same as me and that other fellow who you don’t like as much. I’m
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curtseyed to both of them—inexplicable?—and said,
“Fine, but don’t touch anything. I like my clocks and my bags of seed exactly how they are, thanks.” “Not that it would do you much good even if I did,” the absolute prick said. “I don’t think you’re going to get my bedsheets pregnant no matter how much meddling I try—” “You see?” Tam hissed to Angharad, who was drooling a little in her sleep. “Don’t waste your time on men, they’re disgusting.”
He knew what it was to be focused on one thing to the exclusion of all else, and he knew what it felt like to be fighting and working and striving, and he knew how easily everything could fall to pieces out of nowhere, even if you’d put all your work and all your heart into it.
“So,” he said when the door closed. “Just everyone gets to call you that now, do they?” “Why not?” Lyford said mildly. “Most people can do it with just an invitation, you know. They don’t need a whole quest about it.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Tam snapped. “Fuck off.” “That’s nice. I have something to say to you, though.”
He stood there by the window, and he hated himself. He was awful. Worse than a goblin. Even with all the apologies in the world, even with all the quests in the world to force him through his personal growth, that terrible truth still remained: He was no one but himself, Tam Becket, and he was unlovable.
Because Nicolau was the only one patient enough to fight his way past all of Tam’s thorny hedges. Because Tam wanted so badly to be loved, and Nicolau wanted so badly to love him, apparently.
He didn’t want to be Tam Becket anymore. He didn’t want it. He hated it, and he didn’t want to keep taking it out on everyone else. On Nicolau.
