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He can’t give his true name to Rakos. But he can give him everything else. “Fuck me,” Bellamy says, clawing into Rakos’s hair. He bites Rakos’s earlobe. “Fuck me now.”
“You’re exhausted. Look, you can barely stay upright on your own.” “Then don’t make me stay upright.” Bellamy kisses under Rakos’s jaw. “Don’t worry, you can keep going if I fall asleep.” “I assure you, you aren’t falling asleep,” Rakos says, and flips him over.
“I’m going to come just like this if you aren’t careful,” Rakos growls. “Then hurry up and fuck me.” Bellamy isn’t going to last much longer—not because he’ll come too fast, but because he’ll pass out.
“I haven’t done this exact thing before.” Rakos’s next words are strained. “Do you want me to slow down?” Bellamy shakes his head vigorously. “Don’t you dare. I just want you to know, you’re the first man I’ve—lain with like this. I know it doesn’t really matter. But it matters a little to me.” Rakos laughs, the sound warm and rumbly. “Maybe it shouldn’t matter, but I like it anyway.”
Bellamy’s not nearly as innocent as his overprotective family would like to believe. But it’s one thing knowing intellectually about acts like this. It’s quite another to experience Rakos Tem’s enthusiastic, forceful tongue shoving into his virgin asshole.
“Rakos! I can’t take any more of that.” “What happened to ‘don’t you dare stop’?” Bellamy groans, trying to gather his thoughts. “I really wanted to say something super sexy right now, but I can’t think. Just fuck me now? Please?” “That was sexy enough for me.”
“Fuck, your ass is incredible.” His hips snap against Bellamy’s ass. “You are the hottest man I’ve ever met. Did you see how everyone at the masque was looking at you? I know how jealous you get of me, and I think it’s hot as fuck. But I’m the one who should be jealous. When we walked into that ballroom, every man and woman in that room wanted to be me.” “They saw me trip over your feet during every dance.” “They would have killed for the privilege of being tripped over.”
Rakos kisses Bellamy’s forehead as he comes down. The tip of his nose. The briefest, lightest kiss to his lips. Bellamy touches Rakos’s lips too. “That was incredible.” “Aren’t you afraid of feeding my ego?” Rakos asks. “I’m not afraid of anything right now.”
“There’s one more thing I wasn’t honest about,” Rakos says quietly. “Terrible man. What is it?” Rakos holds him tighter. “I don’t think this is casual for me after all.” Bellamy’s heart soars, then plummets.
Rakos can’t suppress his smirk as Bell approaches the horses with a wince. “Are you sure you can ride?” “No,” Bell retorts with a scowl. “And it is entirely your fault.” “What? Could you elaborate?” “You’ve said things before about not feeding your ego. So, I’m going to hold my tongue on that account.” “But I like your tongue, sweetheart.” Bell rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous.”
“Your magic is really handy, though. I can see you canceling the flares around us.” “I’m cool, aren’t I? Tell me I’m cool.” “Ridiculous.” Bell grins. “But also pretty cool.”
“There’s one more thing I should tell you.” Bell shifts his reins to one hand, then the other. “Is it about how well I fucked you last night?” Rakos asks. “Because I’m already planning to fuck you even better next time.”
“Vana, I mean, His Highness was very polite. He asked if I had seen you, which I denied. But I asked him to describe this Wing-Captain Rakos Tem. His description was very, um. Illuminating.” No wonder Bell wasn’t as shocked as he should have been last night. Rakos is glad he doesn’t have to keep up the charade anymore, because he was apparently even worse at it than he assumed. “Humiliating. Continue.”
admits. “Sarka will help me take you home, I know she will. But after that, I don’t know. If she wants to fly away with me, we’ll figure something out. Find a deserted island somewhere west of the Jaws. You put me in touch with your scalestone-smuggling friends, and we’ll live out our lives in a tropical paradise.” “That sounds nice,” Bell says after a moment. A life with just him and his dragon. That used to be all Rakos wanted. Rakos shakes his head, as if to clear out the dust of melancholy. “Anyway, I don’t trust a word Vana says. He’s a filthy, lying noble just like any prince.” “Yeah,”
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“Cozy, isn’t it?” Rakos murmurs hot in Bellamy’s ear. “You just sleep now. I’ll drive.” They ride deeper into the forest, and Bellamy doesn’t sleep. He’s too content and cozy snuggled up against Rakos. “I’m so lucky to have stumbled into you.” “I don’t think that was luck,” Rakos says. “The storm that blew you off course was probably Prince Vana’s attempt to cover up my exile. I’m the one who’s lucky you decided to take that collar off.” “You’re welcome, then. My most successful kidnapping ever.”
A moment later, Rakos breathes a quiet laugh. Tightens his arm around Bellamy’s body and presses a kiss to the top of Bellamy’s head. “Sleep well, love.” Oh, fuck. Bellamy tries to persuade himself that he’s asleep after all, so he can enjoy this dream without an ending.
“Okay, we’re all packed up.” Rakos rubs the berry juice from his fingers. “Not quite. You missed one thing.” Bell frowns at him, then melts into a laugh as Rakos crowds against him and kisses that sweet smile into submission. There’s an unavoidable joy about being with Bell. It’s like flying. It’s like diving and trusting Bell to pull him up at the last minute. They make out lazily, slowly, and Rakos would love this to last forever.
His body one giant bruise, Rakos staggers to his feet as Bell rushes to his side. “Are you all right?” they both say in unison. Holding his bloody right arm away, Rakos takes Bell in his other arm. He dodges Bell’s attempted kiss to inspect him for injuries. No visible scrapes or bruises, just rapid breath and flushed cheeks. “Are you all right?” Rakos repeats. Bell laughs dazedly. “You’re the one who just tackled a fucking wyrm.”
“I promise, I’m…” Rakos catches the lascivious gleam in Bell’s eyes and changes tune. “Actually, I’m terribly injured. So many injuries everywhere. I think my cock might be broken. Would you mind examining it to make sure it’s all right?” “I’m no healer, but I can do my best.” Bell pushes Rakos backward against a broad, comfortable tree trunk, then drops to his knees. Rakos leans against the tree, anticipation building beneath his bruises. “If all healers were like this, I would spend a lot more time in the infirmary.” “You’d better not be seeing any other doctors,” Bell says in mock warning,
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Bell’s fingers are so thin around Rakos, and he looks up with ravenous hunger in his hazel eyes. Bell licks his lips “You have to tell me if I’m terrible at this.” “You look so hot like that,” Rakos says. “You could just sit there looking up at me, and it would be the best blowjob of my life.” “Oh, well, in that case…” Rakos throws his head back with a groan. “Well, actually, no, I do want you to suck my dick. If you want—I mean, a handjob is good too—”
Bell kisses him back with new fervor, and Rakos’s heart flips in his chest. As the autumn air cools his racing pulse, a realization creeps up on him. Pushes through his bruises and settles around his heart. Fuck casual. Rakos won’t leave Bell behind. He has to make this work. Somehow, he’ll persuade Bell to come with him. To live anywhere that isn’t Silaise. Sarka will love Bell too, and they can all live happily together on a tropical island or wherever. Bell’s hands tangle in his hair, the way he’s already tangled in Rakos’s heart.
“My military expertise focuses on blasting things from the sky. You’ve probably noticed discreet infiltration isn’t my strong suit. Though, if your idea sounds stupid… Well, just try not to have a stupid plan, because I’ll probably go along with it anyway.” “Ringing endorsement. Love it.”
“What are you helping him with?” When Bellamy doesn’t answer, Whisper inhales sharply. “You’re sleeping with him.” Bellamy refuses to be ashamed. “Yes.” Professional posture fracturing, Whisper slumps back in his chair and covers his eyes. “This is so far beyond my paygrade.
Send a message to Greenhaven, telling Audric and Julien not to stop Rakos’s dragon if she attempts to cross the border.” Whisper stares. “Pardon?” “That’s how I’m getting back to Silaise,” Bellamy says. Whisper continues to stare. “Your Highness, on your brother’s behalf, I implore you to reconsider.” “No,” Bellamy says firmly.
“Hey, Bell. I’ve been thinking.” “Should I be worried?” Rakos nuzzles his hair. “When did you get so sarcastic?” “I’m the youngest of three brothers. I’ve always been sarcastic.”
“I don’t want to leave you after this,” Rakos says. Bell freezes in his arms. For one heart-stopping moment, Rakos thinks he’s made a mistake—until Bell melts into him and murmurs, “I don’t want to leave you either. But it’s not that simple.”
Surely it doesn’t have to end now.” Instead of answering, Bell kisses him. Sweet and dry, it tastes like farewell. “I’d love that. You have no idea how much I’d love that.” Bell kisses Rakos again. “Please, don’t make this harder on me.”
And he isn’t helpless. He’s the third prince of Silaise, wielding Sandry magic and his own. He has a sword and a teleporting ferret, though he’s not sure how much use the latter will be. And he has a lover who needs him. If he has to take on the entire fucking drasgard to get Rakos back, he will. After that? Bellamy’s family loves him. They’ve always spoiled him beyond reason. Surely, they’ll forgive him for bringing home a boyfriend, no matter how inconvenient.
Sarka snarls again, wings spreading. Bellamy staggers back with the force of the wind—and Bastard teleports with a pop. She appears directly between Bellamy and the dragon, fur bristling along her tiny spine. Fierce squeaks answer the dragon’s bellow. Bellamy rushes to grab her, but she teleports another five feet forward, still chirping aggressively. Sarka’s wings settle along her back. Stop yelling at me, tiny freak.
“I’m Bellamy Sandry, but Rakos doesn’t know that yet. We’ve just been traveling together, and… “ Sarka abruptly looks down at Bastard, who rolls around on the ground, then blinks to Bellamy’s shoulder. A low, delighted laugh resounds through Bellamy’s mind. Traveling together? If that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Nice to know he was having fun while I desperately searched for him. “I’m sorry,” Bellamy says, not sure what he’s apologizing for. Did his blinkmink just tell this dragon about his sex life?
You lied to me! You wyrmfuckers all lied to me! Irenka’s Miklan banks sharply in midair, barely avoiding Sarka’s outstretched claws. Can you not smell the enemy? Your rider is a traitor. Sarka dives for him again. Who can I trust? You? You lied to me, Miklan! I will wrench your head from your neck and shove it snout-first up your filthy cloaca!
“Minstrel,” he repeats, slowly. “Rakos, do you not know who that is?” It’s Rakos’s turn to stare in confusion. “Of course? He’s…” A minstrel who never sings. A traveler who can’t ride more than a few days in a row. A sweet, fragile young man with one of the most powerful magical talents Rakos has ever encountered. Silaisan. The love of his life, and Rakos doesn’t even know his family name. Vana braces himself against the back of the stone chair, as if he needs it to stay upright. “Rakos, that wasn’t a minstrel. That was Bellamy Sandry.”
“I’ve been fucking Bellamy Sandry?” Rakos asks, dazed. “Yes, you’ve—” Vana’s eyes grow enormous. Daromir drops the key. “You’ve been what?” “Never mind.” Rakos slumps back in the chair, head spinning. “That’s none of your business.” “Yes,” Vana says faintly. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so neither of his brothers have cause to murder me.” “Oh, fuck.” Rakos feels faint too. “His brothers.”
Rakos stumbles forward. Presses his forehead against hers and feels the warmth of her. The moment of connection is like his heart clicking back into place. He feels— He should feel right. He should feel whole. But one more thing is missing. “Hey Sarka. So, I kind of met someone—” The littlest Sandry. She sounds highly amused. I’m well aware. Rakos collapses against her head. “Does everyone besides me know who he is?” I smelled the plants on him from a mile away. He’s very cute.
“Sarka, if he’s been captured, we have to—” Obviously. Her eyes flash violet. Hop aboard. This horrible little creature knows where he is.
“I don’t care if he’s in a dungeon or strung up on a mountain peak. If you’re torturing him, take me to the torture chamber. There’s nothing that needs arranging.”
“Are you all right?” Rakos’s cheek presses against the side of Bell’s head. He trembles inside and feels Bell trembling too. “Please be all right.” Bell clutches him back. “I’m all right. Now that you’re here.” “Low standards,” Rakos says with a breathless laugh. “The highest,” Bell says, and drags Rakos into a kiss.
Rakos has his beloved back. He has his dragon. Everything is right in the world. Well. Perhaps a few problems remain. Rakos coughs and pulls himself away enough to look Bell in the eyes. He has to hold Bell down by the shoulders to prevent another distracting kiss. “Your Highness?” “Yes?” Bell answers naturally. After a moment’s delay, Bell’s eyes widen, then narrow. He jabs his finger into Rakos’s chest. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
“Bellamy Sandry, huh? I can’t believe your identity is even less convenient than mine. No wonder you never sang for me.” “I’m a terrible singer, yes.”
“Do you remember how understanding I was about your little deception? Do you remember how generous I was in my forgiveness?” Rakos’s heart thuds. “I’ll remember every moment we’ve shared for the rest of my life.” “This changes nothing,” Bell pleads with a raw, desperate look in his eyes. “Tell me this changes nothing.”
“Where are we going?” Bell asks. Bastard blinks to his shoulder, then to Rakos’s, then detours to Sarka’s head before the carry pouch shifts with the increased weight. Rakos grabs Bell by the hand and leads him towards Sarka. “Same plan as before. I drop you off in Silaise and hope your brothers don’t kill me.”
You’ll get up and I’ll get up behind you.” “You’re really fast at this.” Bellamy tries not to look down. They’re very high up the tower. “I’m usually faster,” Rakos says. “This is me going slow to make sure you’re safe.” Stupid slug of a man, Sarka chimes in. Hurry up, or I’ll fly away without you!
“I was wondering, though—is Sarka always this bloodthirsty? You said she didn’t enjoy fighting.” Rakos’s voice rumbles through him. “She hates pointless battle. She loves fighting for a good cause, or for petty revenge. Miklan beat her in a deer hunt twenty years ago.”
Bastard blinks onto the harness right in front of Bellamy’s shoulder. She goes utterly still, then blinks back into her pouch with uncharacteristic silence. I told you so, tiny weirdo, Sarka rumbles to the blinkmink.
But it’s difficult to rest while he’s strapped between a dragon and an enemy warmage. A renegade. A terrible farmer and a worse liar. The love of Bellamy’s life, probably. Bellamy’s running out of time to decide what to do about that revelation.
Living a lie with Rakos was thrilling enough. Now, Bellamy wants to build a new truth with him too. He refuses to say farewell. Bellamy rests his forehead against Sarka’s warm scales. When he speaks, his throat is hoarse from all the shouting. “Rakos?” “Right here.” “I don’t want to say goodbye to you,” Bellamy admits.
“I have to persuade them. Because I can’t pretend this is casual anymore either.” Rakos buries his face in Bellamy’s hair. “Is this a confession, minstrel?” “Seems as good a time as any.” Rakos’s right hand finds Bellamy’s, entwining their fingers. “I’ll go anywhere you want me to go. Even to certain death at your family’s hands.”
“Get closer to the castle,” Bellamy shouts, hoping Rakos can hear him. Rakos dispels the air magic an instant later, then another lash of fire. “Anything for you, sweetheart. Just got to dodge around the fucking city.”
And with Bellamy’s assent, Rakos lets him stand on his own. Bellamy straightens his black wyrmskin coat and strides towards the castle steps, only slightly wobbling. There’s Audric and Julien. Oathguards and soldiers. All of them stare at Bellamy in a mixture of joy, relief, and awe—except Lucien Vaire, who’s distracted by the dragon. Bellamy has never felt so impressive in his life. He grins up at his brothers. “Hi, everyone. Sorry I’m late.”
The imperious set of Julien’s jaw is certainly familiar when he demands, “And what exactly was Bellamy doing in your company?” “You don’t want to know,” Rakos answers before he can think better of it.
