vigorli

Title: Purity of Intention (15/?)
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 and

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

tularia for the beautiful banner

The carriage slowed as it neared its destination, the change in movement rousing two of its occupants. Orlando looked across the dim space to where Roux sat, still and silent. "Should I try to wake him now?"

Roux nodded. "We're almost there, and he needs to tell us about his friend here so we know what to do."

Orlando's fingers moved with more deliberation now through Diego's hair, stroking his lover gently awake, not wanting to startle the swordsman into any sudden movements that might cause him more pain. Orlando had not seen the injuries inflicted on the Capitán, but the simple extent of the bandages covering Diego's back spoke volumes for how badly he was hurt. "Diego, querido, can you wake up for me?"

Half fearing to wake from another dream to the dank cell in the Inquisition dungeon, Alatriste opened his eyes slowly. To his relief he was still in the carriage, still pillowed in Orlando's arms, the ceaseless agony that had wracked his body for the past three days muted to a dull ache. "Orlando," he husked, even his voice sounding stronger in his ears.

"We are almost home," Orlando murmured when he saw the other man's eyes open, heard his name on his lover's lips. "Can you tell us about your friend? Does he have some place to go?"

"I cannot say," Diego answered slowly. "He told me he had been falsely accused of having Jewish blood... I do not know if any of his family escaped being taken as well." He looked to Orlando, hoping his lover would understand. "He helped me – reset my joints when they were wrenched, offered me warmth and comfort. I could not let him be killed if we could help him in turn."

"Of course you couldn't," Orlando soothed, not even caring why Diego had acted as he had. His lover had asked for his help, and he had given it. He trusted that the reasons were sound. "We'll just have to find something to do with him until he can tell us his story. Your apartments are already crowded as it is."

"I have space in my rooms," Roux offered, "though it may be disconcerting for him to wake there with no familiar faces. He can stay with me until he's well enough to be on his own again."

"I suspect Javier hoped not to wake at all," Diego admitted. "I am sure he will cope with strange surroundings when he learns he is free of the Inquisition's sentence." His gaze moved to the gypsy's face. "Gracias, my friend," he murmured, knowing Roux would understand he meant more than just offering to take Javier in.

Roux shrugged. "I doubt you have space in your rooms for another stray, and I have plenty of space in mine. As for the rest, you would do the same for me, but most of the thanks go to your young man. Without him, I would have been trying to smuggle you a knife so you could end your torment before they carried you to the stake." As the carriage rolled to a halt, he glanced up toward where Iñígo was perched next to the other bodyguard. "I'll take Iñígo with me," he decided. "He can help me with the herbs while I care for your friend, and then bring fresh ones back to your rooms later. I imagine you can do without his hovering for a few hours."

"If you can convince him to go," Diego agreed, grateful to the gypsy for recognizing his need to be alone with Orlando. "Is it safe?" he added for Roux's ears only. "I am a poor guard at the moment."

Roux nodded subtly. "Take him upstairs and make him rest, Don Orlando," he said aloud, teasing the Inglés gently. "Our Capitán has seen better days. And take Eric with you to guard the stairs. I will deal with Iñígo."

"Can you walk well enough to make it up the stairs?" Orlando asked Diego, scooting toward the door. "Or do you need Eric's help as well?"

Alatriste supposed he should be grateful that the English bodyguard had returned to serve as Orlando's protector in his absence, but by hell, he would not let the big man lay a hand on him. "I can walk," he growled, finding it easier than he had feared to push to his feet.

Orlando jumped down from the carriage and turned back to offer his hand to his lover. Iñígo appeared at his elbow instantly, wanting to help as well.

"Iñígo," Roux's voice called from inside the carriage before either of them could speak, "come in here with me. I'll need your help with the Capitán's friend. He is still unconscious, and I cannot handle him alone."

Iñígo's worried gaze darted back to his guardian, who nodded his agreement. "Go, Iñígo, help Roux with Javier. I promise I will survive until you return."

The young man's eyes met Orlando's, seeking assurance that Diego would receive all the care Iñígo would offer himself.

"You know I'm hardly likely to let anything happen to him now that we have him back," Orlando promised, ruffling Iñígo's hair lightly. Leaning down, he added softly, "Javier helped the Capitán in prison. The least we can do is take good care of him now. Since the Capitán cannot, it falls to you, his ward, to show our gratitude in his place."

"Si, I will help Roux with your friend, Capitán," Iñígo agreed. "I will bring you back news of him once he is better."

Iñígo taken care of, Orlando turned his attention to his former protector. "Guard the stairs," he directed Eric. "I don't think the Inquisition will send anyone after us, but that doesn't mean our other adversary will be so generous. I doubt he'll hear the news tonight, but we can't afford to take chances."

The other Englishman nodded and took up his place at the base of the stairs leading to Alatriste's rooms. He'd had his doubts when he first arrived in Madrid, but the transformation in his erstwhile charge had convinced him that the Spaniard was good for the younger man. He would do all he could to protect them a little longer.

"Let's get you upstairs," Orlando murmured to Diego. "You'll feel better once you've had a chance to rest."

"I already feel better," the swordsman asserted, though he still found he needed to lean on Orlando to manage the narrow stairway to his rooms. A light sweat coated his skin by the time the heavy door finally closed behind them. "Lock it," he instructed, leaning against the frame to catch his breath.

Orlando threw the heavy bolt, then turned to his lover, wrapping his arms around Diego's neck. "Come lie down," he urged, kissing the older man tenderly, his fingers twining in the sweat-tangled hair.

Reaching up to his lover's face, Diego's attention was drawn to the traces of blood that marred the younger man's smooth cheek. Disgust at the foulness that clung to his body filled him. "I must bathe first," he insisted, "I reek of the dungeons. I would not have that filth anywhere near you."

"They cannot touch us," Orlando assured him, "but I understand why you would want to be clean again. Come into the bedroom and we'll see what we can do. You cannot sit in the bathtub with your back the way it is, but we can surely wash away some of the grime."

Letting his lover lead him, Diego began to lower himself onto the bed, pausing when he glanced down at the blood and dirt staining his breeches. "Help get these off me," he asked, working at the fastenings with awkward fingers.

Despite the seriousness of Diego's injuries, despite his lover's weakness, Orlando could not help the grin that split his face at the thought. Kneeling at the swordsman's feet, he worked off the heavy boots before unfastening the trousers and sliding them down, leaving Diego in his smallclothes. "The rest of it as well?" he asked huskily, unable to stop his reaction to the thought of his lover naked regardless of the situation.

"All of it," the swordsman answered, anxious to be rid of anything with the taint of the Inquisition prison clinging to it. "Iñígo will need to boil them before I can wear them again."

Iñígo would buy him new ones, Orlando decided instantly, though it was a discussion he would have with Diego later. For the moment, it was enough to pull the soiled cloth from the swordsman's body and leave him bare but for the bandages. "These should stay until I have more of Roux's herbs to put on them if you can stand to have me wash around them."

"Just bring me some water and a cloth, I will manage." Diego would prefer not to face an irate Roux by disarranging his bandages.

"You will sit there and do nothing but try to relax," Orlando insisted, beginning to remove his own finery. "You wouldn't deprive me of the opportunity to touch you, would you?"

"You look so fine in those clothes, it seems a shame to soil them," Diego replied, easing himself carefully onto the mattress.

Orlando turned back to Diego as he set aside the outer tunic and reached for the buttons on the trousers. "I won't be soiling them." He let the trousers fall and pulled the linen over his head, leaving him dressed only in his smallclothes. "Now, can I please take care of you?"

"I thought you hired me to take care of you," Diego answered, trying not to stare at the enticing figure of his nearly-unclothed lover. Despite his weariness, his body was trying to react; he shifted uneasily, willing away the inappropriate response, certain Orlando could only be sickened by his damaged state.

Orlando frowned. "I thought we were lovers, equal partners who took care of each other as the situation warranted." He stroked Diego's face to soften his next words. He feared if he let any distance grow between them, he would have to start over again. "Or did the Inquisition change your mind?"

"I would not have you see me like this," the swordsman replied truthfully, though he could not help but lean into the soothing touch.

"Like what?" Orlando asked, knowing the answer but wanting to reassure his lover. "Naked beneath my hands? Moving into my touch? Why wouldn't I want to see you that way? Why wouldn't I want you that way?"

"Injured," Alatriste countered, though he could not prevent the desire that shivered through him at the younger man's words. "Helpless. Useless to you."

Orlando kissed Diego again gently. "I know you're hurt. I know they did unspeakable things to you, but I don't care. I don't need you to be 'helpful.' I don't need you to be 'useful.' I love you. All I need is you here with me. Let me show you?"

All his arguments melting away at Orlando's words of love, Diego nodded, opening his arms and his heart to his lover. "Querido," he murmured, one hand tangling into the dark curls as he leaned into the offered embrace. "Te amo, solamente tú."

"And I only you," Orlando vowed, gazing deep into his lover's eyes. He was tempted to forget about Diego's bath in favor of even more intimate activities, but the Spaniard had been very specific about why he wanted to bathe, and Orlando could understand his reasoning. Not looking away, even for a moment, he felt blindly for the pitcher of water and rag that he knew were on the nearby sideboard. Besides, he doubted Diego was truly well enough for anything more strenuous than a bath and sleeping in each other's arms.

Having given in to his body's urging to hold his lover, Diego begrudged even the momentary loss of Orlando's arms. "What is wrong?"

"Not a thing," Orlando replied, picking up the supplies he needed, "but I believe you wanted a bath." He set the pitcher on the floor by the bed and dipped the rag inside. "Your servant, señor," he teased gently, wiping the cloth across Diego's face. It came away red with blood and black with grime, but he ignored the twinge in his heart at the thought of what his lover had suffered. Diego did not want his pity, and Orlando would not demean him by giving it. Instead, he would use this time to show his lover how much he admired his courage and fortitude in surviving his terrible ordeal.

The rough nap of the rag was harsh against his bruised and broken flesh, but it was Orlando's hand holding the cloth, Orlando's voice whispering to him as he gently wiped the gore and sweat from his skin, the pain outweighed by the simple effect of Orlando's hands on his body. There was nothing intentionally erotic about the touch, yet Diego found his arousal growing with each swipe of the cool cloth.

"Am I hurting you?" Orlando asked, concern heavy in his voice when he felt Diego shift beneath his hand. "I know you wished to be clean, but I would not cause you pain. The bath can wait until you are better."

"Don't stop," Diego insisted. "I would be clean when I hold you against me." No pain would prevent him from feeling his lover curled against him as they slept.

"I want nothing more than to be in your arms again," Orlando averred, rubbing the cloth down Diego's arms, carefully avoiding the bandages over his shoulders. He could see the swelling around the swordsman's joints and knew that had to come from the time he had spent on the rack. He pushed down the rage that wanted to surge within him, knowing he could do nothing to change the system. He would have to be satisfied with having thwarted it this time.

"I dreamed of that – of returning to you here, in my arms, in my bed," the swordsman admitted. "Though I thought it no more than a dream – I held little hope you would succeed in freeing me."

"I slept in your spare shirt," Orlando admitted in return. "It smelled of you, and I needed that comfort to settle enough to doze. I know Iñígo thought me mad, but otherwise, fear of not being able to help you kept me from resting." He turned his attention to the furry chest, wiping all the skin not covered by the tied ends of the bandages. He would have to repeat the process when Roux came to change the dressings, for there was much he could not reach, but he would do what he could.

"But you did help me." The cloth brushing over his chest, scratching his nipples which pebbled as it swiped over them, started a warmth growing lower in Diego's body, spreading through his limbs as the rag moved down his ribs. To distract himself, he continued, "How were you able to gain an order for my release?"

Turning his attention to Diego's legs, Orlando picked up one foot, beginning to wash it as he replied, "I pretended I was a man like my father, a man like you, a powerful man with enough influence to demand the release of my attendant." He realized what he had said and glanced up frantically, meeting Diego's eyes. "I don't think of you as my servant, but if I'd told them you were my lover, I'd never have been able to help you."

"It was no more than the truth," Diego reassured him, his breath catching as Orlando began running the rag up his calf. "And you do not have to pretend to be a powerful man. You were obviously convincing enough to win my freedom."

Orlando shrugged diffidently. "They feared the possibility of my father's displeasure far more than they cared about your fate. And while it was no more than the truth, it was also far less than the whole truth." Turning his attention back to the task at hand, his gaze fell to the juncture of Diego's thighs and the swelling that was developing there. Smile growing on his face, he brushed the cloth across his lover's cock. "I thought you'd be in too much pain."

This time Diego made no attempt to hide the gasp of breath as Orlando caressed him. "I would have to be dead not to respond when you touch me like that."

Orlando's heart leapt at the flattering words. Urging his lover to spread his legs, he knelt between the swordsman's knees, washing him thoroughly before dropping the rag to the floor. "Shall I touch you some more?" he asked teasingly, his lips close enough that his breath wafted across the burgeoning shaft.

"Do not play with me, Orlando," Diego rasped, holding himself back from the urge to push his lover's head down onto his cock. "Touch me, querido."

Orlando complied immediately, his lips closing around the leaking tip as his hands slid up Diego's thighs to cradle the heavy sacs. His own body quickened as he lavished pleasure on his lover in all the ways he'd dreamed of doing while they were separated. The salty flavor assaulted his senses as he took the thick shaft deeper into his mouth, imagining what it would feel like to have it inside him, though he didn't dare hope that would happen tonight. The last thing he wanted to do was overtax Diego's strength. He could wait a little longer for that pleasure, knowing it was only a matter of time and allowing his lover to heal.

Diego groaned deeply as Orlando's mouth surrounded him, his tongue teasing over his most sensitive flesh, the soft hands cradling his sacs making them tighten in anticipation. It would be so easy to find his release this way, but Diego had imagined their first night of lovemaking far differently. Cursing his body which was so quick to rouse and yet, he feared, too weak to give his lover the same pleasure, he threaded a hand into Orlando's ebon curls, not to pull him closer but to ease him away from the all-too-enticing sensations.

Orlando looked up. "What is it?" he asked. "Do you want me to stop?" He didn't want to, not with Diego's taste on his lips and scent in his nose, but he would. His lover's well-being came before any lust on his own part.

"I want to kiss you," Diego urged, coaxing Orlando to return where he could reach him. "I want to hold you in my arms, to share the pleasure you are giving me." He drew them both down onto the mattress, careful to lean his weight on his side, which had sustained the least damage from the whip and the rack.

Orlando offered his mouth willingly, his arms going around Diego's neck again, hoping that there, at least, they would cause no more pain. "You give me pleasure simply by being here," he insisted. "Everything else is extra."

Diego's mouth feasted at the banquet of Orlando's lips, the taste of his own saltiness a reminder of the intimacy he longed to share with his lover. His legs tangled with Orlando's, drawing them closer, their bodies aligning as his hands relearned the smooth planes of the younger man's back.

Orlando rubbed himself eagerly against Diego's hip, the brush of linen against his cock a sudden reminder that he had not finished undressing. He pulled away long enough to strip off his smallclothes before returning quickly to his lover's arms. The sensation of their swollen shafts bumping together nearly undid him. "I want you inside me," he told Diego bluntly. "Can we manage?"

"I don't know," Diego said honestly. He frowned, his arms tightening around Orlando when the younger man misread his expression for pain and tried to pull away. "This is not how I wanted the first time I made love to you to be," he confessed, "but I cannot wait another night. We've already waited too long."

"We have," Orlando agreed wholeheartedly. "It doesn't matter how we position our bodies tonight or any other night. Making love comes from the heart, and mine is entirely in your care. However we lie, however we touch each other, it will be making love." He pulled away enough to roll to his other side, rubbing his bottom provocatively against Diego's groin. "Make love to me."

The friction of Orlando's buttocks against him made Diego's cock surge with blood, but he ignored its demands for the moment. Burying his head in the nape of his lover's neck, he inhaled the sweet, clean scent, the curls tickling his face as he pressed small, soft kisses over the fragrant flesh. "You smell much better than my last bed," he murmured, muffling a hiss of pain as he raised up a bit on one elbow to circle his lover's chest with the other arm, his fingers searching for the sensitive nipples.

"I'd be worried if I didn't," Orlando murmured in reply, his hiss of pleasure echoing the one from Diego's lips. He angled his chest to give the Spaniard better access to his chest. "Lie back down," he urged, hearing the hint of pain his lover tried to suppress. "Lie still and move me to get what you want. That way I won't be distracted by worrying that I'm making your pain worse."

"Querido, there is pain if you do nothing at all," Diego answered, rolling a tightened nub between his thumb and forefinger. "Pleasuring you at least gives some purpose to it."

A low moan escaped Orlando's lips. "You do give me pleasure," he promised as he rolled to his back, slipping his fingers beneath the ties of the bandages to reciprocate the caress. "Just by being here and alive, you give me pleasure."

There was no mistaking Diego's sigh for one of contentment at Orlando's gentle touch. Fanning his fingers to find and tease the other pebble of flesh, he kissed his way across his lover's shoulder, the sweet taste more refreshing than cool water, more intoxicating than wine.

Orlando skimmed his hand lower, feeling the bandages come to an end at his lover's hipbones. Scooting closer, he stroked the bare skin of Diego's hip and upper thigh before reaching around to cup the firm muscle of the other man's buttocks. He wanted to touch, to taste everywhere, but he accepted that wouldn't be possible tonight. This, at least, he could do, bringing Diego's cock back into contact with his own hip. He kneaded gently, watching for signs of pain. He couldn't feel any open wounds, but that didn't guarantee anything.

Grunting softly as he shifted to press into Orlando's caress, Diego bent forward, the bristles of his moustache brushing over a tawny disk before he flicked at it with his tongue. His free hand gave a final tweak to the pearl it had been playing with before trailing lower, following the faint trail of hair that bisected his lover's abdomen, winding in and out of the wispy curls and only tracing the perimeter of the thicker patch to which it led.

Orlando groaned when Diego's lips and moustache laved his nipple. When the agile fingers started teasing around his cock, he arched his hips eagerly. "Touch me," he pleaded, his grip on the firm flesh beneath his palm tightening. "Now."

"I am touching you," Diego smiled, groaning when the attempt to stretch further to lave Orlando's other nipple strained the wounds across his back. "Roll closer," he urged, moving with his lover until he could close his teeth around the delectable nugget. His fingers continued their desultory exploration of Orlando's groin, winding the wiry curls around his fingertips, combing through the tangle to outline the base of the rigid shaft, drifting lower to the delicate skin that enclosed hardening sacs.

Orlando might have caviled had Diego's hands not moved as they did. As it was, he canted his hips more toward his lover's, crooking one knee to leave his most intimate regions open to the swordsman's sure, lingering touch. Slipping his hand between them, he found his lover's cock, fingers dancing along its length, hoping to urge Diego to hurry. The fear and tension of the last few days had taken their toll on Orlando's patience and he needed their impending joining to chase away the last of the nightmares that haunted him.

Diego had thought to draw out their lovemaking, the warmth of Orlando's flesh beneath his fingers and the soft sounds of enjoyment he was coaxing from his lover's lips grounding him, proof that they had cheated the fate that threatened them; but his lover's hands were too clever, too enticing, and he feared he would not have the strength to continue much longer. He ached to straddle Orlando's lean hips, to plunge into the roseate opening that even now clenched beneath his seeking fingers, but his arm was already trembling with the strain of holding himself upright. Circling the hot, tight portal, he once again cursed his weakness as he sagged back onto his side, his hand lifting to Orlando's face.

"If we are to do this, you will need to find something I can use to make you ready for me," he murmured. "Taking you with nothing but spit is going to hurt both of us."

Orlando glanced around the room, mentally ransacking his valise for something they could use when his eyes landed on the flagon of oil on the sideboard. "You didn't get much of a chance to use this before," he commented slyly, grabbing it and bringing it back to bed with him. "Let's hope we aren't interrupted this time." His heart raced as he remembered what it had felt like to have Diego's finger inside him. His entire body thrilled with the prospect of being filled by something even more satisfactory.

"I think Roux has seen to it that we will not be," the swordsman answered, watching Orlando remove the stopper from the glass vial. "Unless your other protector feels the need to check upon you?"

"I only have one protector," Orlando averred, "and he is right here with me, about to make love to me. Eric is not a fool. He'll stay downstairs and leave us in peace." Setting the stopper aside, he offered the oil to Diego. "Forget about him and come ravish me properly."

Dipping his fingers into the viscous fluid, Alatriste paused a moment in appreciation of the embodiment of every dream that had kept him alive during his days in the Inquisition's dungeons – his lover, lying in a pose of wanton invitation on his bed, his arms reaching for him, his eyes kindled not only with desire but with love. Ignoring the pain that accompanied his every movement, Diego bent to kiss the hollow of Orlando's abdomen as his fingers worked their way to the crease between his widespread legs, circling the puckered entrance, coating it with the slickness that clung to his fingers. Not until his lover was twisting and pleading beneath him did he breach the opening with the tip of one thick digit, the tightness a tiny foretaste of the bliss to come.

Orlando sobbed his readiness, his desire, his need, writhing desperately beneath the long-desired touch. "Diego," he entreated, fingers digging into his lover's hip as he tried to draw him closer. He reached blindly for the cock that nudged his hip, hoping to urge the swordsman to pick up the pace.

Biting back a groan at the stab of pain in his swollen joint, Diego raised his head to nuzzle at the slender shaft lying in a pool of clear fluid, the salty taste on his tongue and the curl of Orlando's fingers around his own cock encouraging him to work a second finger into his lover's tight passage. He would have reached for more oil, but he needed his other hand to hold himself upright, so he settled for twisting and stretching the clinging walls as best he could, willing his strength to hold out long enough to let him love Orlando the way they both hungered to be joined.

"Enough," Orlando gasped. "I want you inside me when I come, not just your fingers." As much as he wanted to be able to watch his lover's face as their bodies came together for the first time, he knew it would be easiest on Diego if he turned over. Giving his lover one more, lingering kiss, he rolled away and pressed his back to the older man's chest. "Please."

Vowing that as soon as he was stronger he would make love to Orlando the way he deserved, Diego pressed a kiss to his lover's shoulder and settled back onto his side. "Hand me the oil, querido," he requested, withdrawing his fingers to dip them again in the proffered flagon and anoint his already-leaking shaft. His lips moved to his lover's ear as he positioned himself to slip inside, ghosting over the whorled shell as he pressed slowly, easing the tender flesh open with exquisite gentleness. "Let me inside you," he murmured, "let me love you, mi amor."

Orlando repressed a sob at the tender epithet, consciously relaxing his body as much as he could. He leaned back against the hard flesh spearing him, taking it deeper into himself, letting it fill him, complete him, join them together in the most elemental of ways. "Te amo," he gasped as he fought not to climax the first time the tip of Diego's cock hit his eager gland.

The words of love, even more than the tight heat of his lover welcoming him, set a match to the conflagration burning in Diego's belly. Clenching his teeth even as his lips still moved over Orlando's neck, he spread his legs to align their bodies even closer, his hips stirring gently, each motion rocking him minutely inside the tight channel. His hand circled his lover's shaft, stroking it firmly, whispered endearments ghosting over glistening skin as he drove them both toward their fulfillment.

Orlando rocked eagerly back against Diego, spurred on by the hand on his cock, the breath in his ear. His heart swelled with love as his proud lover bared his soul in this intimate moment. He didn't care if he ever heard the words again. To have Diego say them now, to know that this moment meant as much to the swordsman as it did to him, left Orlando overcome with emotion, his own words of devotion pouring from his lips in a babbling litany.

The flames were licking at Diego's nerves, pain and pleasure melding together, consuming him, stealing his breath, overwhelming his control. His body fought to mold itself to his lover, his fist tightening around Orlando's cock, stroking it as his hips thrust to the rhythm of their pounding heartbeats. "Mi corazon," Diego gasped, fighting the instinct that sought to overpower him.

Orlando gave in to the needs riding him, Diego's hand and cock driving him toward the moment of release, the precipice beyond which there would be only bliss and completion. A part of him wanted to prolong the moment, to hang on to the novelty of their union, but his body had reached its limits, his control stretched thin by the week of tension and fear, and now by joy. Letting go of his hold on his passions, he arched against Diego, his climax rolling through him in long, lingering waves.

As soon as the first hot splash of his lover's release slickened his fingers, Diego gave in, crushing Orlando's body to his as it convulsed around him. Heedless of pain his emotions soared, his senses lost to anything but the flare of ecstasy that blazed within him, coursing along his nerves, leaving him shuddering with each aftershock that wracked them both. With a final heaving breath he slumped against his lover's back, his strength exhausted.

Pushing back the lethargy brought on by his own release, Orlando turned immediately, checking on his lover. Diego's face was wan, but a smile bowed his lips, reassuring Orlando as nothing else could. "Sleep," he urged softly, pillowing Diego's head on his shoulder. "Everything else can wait until morning." He kissed the broad forehead. "Te amo."

He tried to reply, but exertion and exhaustion had taken their toll as Diego lapsed into blackness, safe in the haven of his lover's arms.

tbc…