vigorli

Title: Purity of Intention (11/?)
Author:

arieltachna
Type: RPS / FPS crossover
Pairing: Diego / Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: none
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, created for entertainment and enjoyment only. With all due respect, we do not own these characters, either the actors or those created by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. We just think it’s a fascinating world.
Feedback: would be wonderful
Beta:

sileya
Summary: A cynical swordsman is hired to return a runaway – or so it appears
A/N: thanks to

akashaelfwitch for help with translation
A/N2: thanks to

tularia for the beautiful banner

"Diego! Get dressed and get out here. Íñigo's in danger!"

Muttering a curse, Diego rolled to his feet, struggling against the urge to ignore Roux, ignore everything but the need to claim Orlando at last. He ran his hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it back from his face, turning his head for a moment to take in the sight of the Englishman sprawled in wanton abandon across his bed before turning back toward the door to the common room.

"Wait!" Orlando protested, realizing Diego intended to walk into the other room naked. "At least put the sheet around yourself."

"It's only Roux," the swordsman answered dryly. "From the way we left our clothes scattered all over the floor, I'm sure he has no illusions about what we're doing."

"That's not the point," Orlando pointed out. "Would you want me to walk out there naked?"

Diego wasn't sure he understood what Orlando was concerned about, but he could tell from the expression on his face that this was important to him. Wrapping the bed linen around his waist, he raised an eyebrow at the younger man as if to ask if he were satisfied before stalking through the doorway. "What has happened?" he demanded of the gypsy.

Roux raised a sardonic eyebrow at his friend's unusual attire, but his news was too pressing to take his usual time to tease. "I overheard one of conde Lee's men asking about Íñigo. It seems he and McKellen have a taste for young boys."

His expression hardening, Diego began to gather his clothes and Orlando's. "And if he cannot strike at me or Orlando, he will target a defenseless boy? Bastardo! Does he know where Íñigo is now?"

"Si," Roux replied, his expression matching the Spaniard's. "The puto he asked told him that Íñigo goes to the Dómine for lessons."

"If any harm comes to him, I will – " Diego broke off and glanced back at the bedroom, then met Roux's eyes with a steely glare. "I will be sure Íñigo is safe. Will you remain here and watch over Orlando?"

"Of course," Roux replied. "It will give me a chance to get to know your young man a little better." He paused and then asked, "Is he your young man now?"

"Had you arrived five minutes later, he would have been," Diego answered dryly. "Conde Lee will have much to answer for, should we ever meet." With a dour grin at his friend, Diego turned back to the bedchamber and tossed Orlando's clothes onto the bed.

"You would not have wanted me to wait even that long with the news I had," Roux commented to Diego's retreating back.

Inside the room, Orlando looked up when Diego walked in. "What's wrong with Íñigo?" he asked immediately.

"I hope nothing, but I cannot take that chance," he said quietly, pulling on his trousers. "Roux overheard one of conde Lee's men asking about him. They know he takes lessons with Dómine Pérez. I must see that he is safe. Roux will stay with you until we return." He met Orlando's gaze as he fastened his shirt, hoping the younger man would not think he was making a choice between them.

"Of course you must," Orlando agreed, his lust fading in light of the threat to the boy he had befriended. "Are we never to be free of their plots?" he muttered as he began pulling on his own clothes. Trousers fastened, he went to Diego's side and kissed him swiftly. "Do what you must. I'll be here waiting for your return."

Though he knew he must hurry, Diego could not resist tightening his arm around his lover's shoulders, holding him close for just a moment. They were lovers now, regardless of whether or not they completed what they had begun. "Once Íñigo is safe, nothing will stop me from loving you," he promised, softly enough that only Orlando could hear.

"Nor I from loving you," Orlando swore in return. "Go. Bring him home safely."

After tugging on his boots, Diego retrieved his pistol from the clothes-press and tucked it into his waistband. Returning to the main room, he buckled on his sword and gathered his cape and hat. "When I return, we will decide how to deal with the conde Lee," he told Roux. "I want his threat ended once and for all."

Following Diego into the room as he pulled his shirt over his head, Orlando nodded in agreement. He had said everything he could to Diego in the bedroom, but he didn't want to lose sight of his lover any sooner than necessary.

"Bring the boy home safe and we will make plans then," Roux agreed, glancing at Orlando once before turning his attention back to Diego. "I have learned much this afternoon."

"Bien. Keep him safe." Diego's eyes met Orlando's once more, then he turned with and was gone.

"As if he were mine," Roux promised softly, though he knew Diego could not hear him. With a grim smile, he set his own pistol on the table within easy reach and motioned for Orlando to join him.

Orlando took the offered seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the rough edge of the table as he tried not to think of the danger Diego could well be facing alone, as he tried not to imagine Íñigo at the hands of Lee and his mercenaries. He had no idea what to say to the mysterious gypsy who clearly knew his lover so well. "How did you meet Diego?" he asked suddenly, thinking to break the silence and perhaps learn something of the swordsman's past.

"During the wars," Roux answered, "we served in the same tercio in Flanders, along with Lope Balboa – Íñigo's father – and too many other men who did not survive. It was a brutal conflict, and we each had occasion to save each other's lives more than once – indeed, we soon stopped keeping count of what each of us owed the other. There is no one I would trust at my back more than Diego."

"At your back or on your back?" Orlando muttered under his breath, jealousy sinking its claws into him hard. The gypsy certainly hadn't seemed upset to have interrupted him and Diego earlier before they could make love.

If Roux heard the sotto voce remark, it didn't seem to trouble him. "Are you perhaps wondering if we were lovers?" he asked easily. "We were, of course – between battles, men take such comfort as they can where they can find it, especially in such a hell as the Flemish campaigns. But Diego, though he would take another sword in his shoulder rather than admit it, is a romantic at heart – he believes in love, and though we have shared much in the years since I have known him, neither of us has ever imagined we were in love."

"Am I wasting my time with him then?" Orlando asked plaintively, his eyes searching Roux's face for reassurance. He wondered where his jealousy had gone, but it seemed to have been extinguished by Roux's simple honesty. All that remained was the fear that Diego still did not imagine himself in love the way Orlando did. "Am I foolish to hope that he loves me?"

"I have seen Diego take many lovers," Roux answered. "None has lasted more than a few nights, unless it was very clear that neither's heart was involved." He smiled at the young man whose openness was such a contrast to his friend's reticence to display his emotions. "I have never seen him fight his attraction as he has toward you. If he felt nothing, he would have taken what he wanted from you long before now."

Orlando blushed and looked away. "You must think me such a child, demanding reassurances from you this way. It's just..." he paused, trying to decide how much to say. In the end, it seemed nothing but total honestly would do. "It's just that I've never felt for anyone what I feel for Diego. It would kill me to find out he did not feel the same way."

The Englishman's confession having done much to ease Roux's concerns for his friend, he did not hesitate to offer the younger man his own reassurance. "He wrapped a sheet around himself earlier because you asked him to, did he not?"

"How do you know that?" Orlando demanded defensively, feeling even more insecure now than he had before. Had Diego told Roux? Had they laughed about it together while he paced the room worried about Íñigo?

"Because it's the first time he has ever bothered with modesty," Roux grinned, then sobered as he read the expression in his companion's eyes. "He did it because he cares for your feelings," the gypsy continued. "Believe that, for it is more consideration than I have seen him show anyone, even Íñigo."

Orlando nodded slowly. He wanted to believe that Roux was right, and certainly from what he had seen, the gypsy knew his lover better than anyone else, but a part of him would not believe it completely until he heard the words from Diego's mouth.

Sitting back in his chair, Roux withdrew his pipe from his pouch and began to fill it. He had hoped to gain a sense of Orlando's feelings toward Diego, but he had learned more from the Ingles' questions than from any he might have asked himself. Feeling well satisfied, he turned his mind toward the problem of how to disarm conde Lee, so that his friend might enjoy the treasure he had found.

~~~~~

The cobbles rang beneath his boot heels as Diego strode down the dusty street toward the parsonage where Dómine Pérez conducted his instruction. Though his eyes darted from side to side, sizing up the passers-by out of habit, in his mind he saw only Orlando as he had looked just before Roux's arrival, his honeyed skin flushed with heat, his sable hair tangled on the pillow, his face transformed with longing as Diego made ready to claim him. Even now the fever still sang in his own veins, urging him to move faster, to be sure Íñigo was safe so he could return to his home, his bed – his Orlando.

He saw nothing out of the ordinary on his way to the church, so rather than interrupt his ward's lesson he leaned against the fence that surrounded the small churchyard, waiting for Íñigo to exit. Once more, while he remained alert to everything that went on around him, he could not keep a part of his mind from imagining the pleasure that awaited him when he returned. He would strip Orlando from his clothes again, baring each inch of his warm olive skin to his fingers and lips. Perhaps this time, when he took Orlando into his mouth, he would not stop until he had tasted all of him. The corner of Diego's lip curled as he imagined Orlando's face as he came undone at the touch of his mouth. Then, when he was utterly sated, Diego would take him, would slide with aching slowness into his hot, tight channel. His cock swelled as he imagined Orlando squeezing around him, imagined the cries he would wring from his lover's lips as he filled him, as Orlando's long legs wrapped around his waist and they found the depth, the rhythm that would bring them both to bliss...

Finally free of the Dómine's lessons, Íñigo raced out of the abbey with all his usual boisterous energy, calling his good-byes to the other boys as he did. He skidded to a halt when he saw his guardian waiting there. "Did I..." he began, his mind searching for something he might have done that would explain the Capitan's presence. "Is something wrong?"

Another quick glance around the church's plaza showing nothing untoward, Diego exhaled sharply and nodded for Íñigo to follow him. His cloak floated behind him as his long strides ate up the distance back to the Tavern of the Turk. Íñigo, despite the energy of youth, was hard pressed to keep up with his guardian's speed.

As he walked, the rapid pace doing little to cool his ardor, Diego considered how to answer Íñigo's question. His ward was far from innocent, but even so he recoiled from exposing him to Lee and McKellen's intentions. Roux had not had time to share any details, but Diego had seen enough from the correspondence in McKellen's apartments to imagine the perversions the two would inflict on any young man unfortunate enough to fall into their clutches. Íñigo needed to hear enough to understand the danger he faced. Diego also had to decide what to tell his ward about Orlando. He had brought home lovers since Íñigo had come to live with him, but until now they had all been female, and it had been clear that none of them were anything more than someone to warm his bed and sate his need. Diego did not think Íñigo would care especially that he had taken a male lover this time, so much as he would care that Orlando was obviously much more to him than just another meaningless fuck. He could hardly explain to Íñigo what his future with Orlando might be, when he did not understand it himself. What would happen to them once the threat of Lee and McKellen was ended? Orlando had said he would stay, but for how long? Diego knew the two of them needed to talk - later, after they had finished making love.

They were perhaps six streets away from the inn when the swordsman's keen hearing caught the sound of a number of booted feet approaching. Halting against the wall of the alleyway they had just crossed, Diego motioned Íñigo behind him, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

Obediently, Íñigo moved as his guardian bid, street smart enough to know he did not want to appear in any way to interfere with the city guards or the Inquisition soldiers, squadrons of both roaming the streets at will. He sank back further into the shadows when the patrol rounded the corner and approached them. "Diego Alatriste y Tenorio?" the captain of the guard asked, addressing the Capitan.

Diego had been prepared to face a pack of the conde's soldiers, but these guards were clad in the red and white livery of the constables of the Holy Office. For just a moment he contemplated drawing his sword in any case, estimating the odds of overpowering them; then his gaze fell on Íñigo. Whatever happened to him, he needed to be certain Íñigo was safe, and that Orlando was warned. Taking a step forward, he inclined his head, waiting to see what would come next.

"You are under arrest by order of the Grand Inquisitor," the captain intoned gravely, gesturing for his soldiers to approach the mercenary. "Do not make your situation worse by resisting."

Not even as fearless a man as Diego Alatriste could prevent a shiver from running down his spine at the thought of falling into the clutches of the Inquisition. "Go," he whispered to Íñigo, not turning his head to see if the youth obeyed. "Tell Roux." Raising his chin, he stared at the guard from beneath the brim of his broad hat. "What is the charge?" he demanded.

"Sodomy," the captain replied with unholy glee. It had been some weeks since he had gotten to watch the Inquisitors torture a confession from a sodomite. This one looked strong and stubborn. He would enjoy watching them wring the truth from this godless abomination.

tbc…