Birthday FIC for gattodoro - Purity of Intntion (16/?)

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

Title: Purity of Intention (16/?)
Author: namarie120and 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: tularia
Summary: A cynical swordsman is hired to return a runaway – or so it appears
A/N: Thanks to tularia for the beautiful banner
A/N2 – Some slightly-angsty birthday loving especially for gattodoro





A pleasant lethargy filled Orlando as he stirred from sleep, his lover - finally and truly his lover - still curled against him. His body ached in the most pleasurable of ways, reminding him of how well and thoroughly Diego had loved him last night, despite the constraints of his injuries. That thought made Orlando frown. He hated knowing that Diego was wounded, that the swordsman had suffered because of him. Shifting slightly, he stroked the older man's hair gently, afraid to touch anywhere else for fear of hurting his lover worse. His eyes started to drift shut again when a flash of red caught his attention. Easing Diego's head to the pillow, he sat up, his hand reaching out to touch the sticky stain.

The loss of the warm skin and reassuring heartbeat beneath his cheek pulled Diego from the restful lassitude he had been drifting in. "Come back to bed," he murmured drowsily, admiring his lover’s sleep-rumpled beauty from beneath hooded lids. "'s too early to be up."

"You're bleeding," Orlando protested. "We shouldn't have..."

"A cut or two pulled open," Diego interrupted, dismissing the concern before Orlando could continue. Despite the pain he still felt, he could not regret a moment of the previous night’s activity. "It signifies nothing. Roux will draw more than that when he changes the bandages." He pushed onto one elbow and reached to draw his lover back down to the bedding, his blood heating as his body began to stir.

"But I hurt you," Orlando whispered, still stricken at the sight of Diego's blood on the sheets, though he did not fight his return to his lover's arms. He dared not for fear of causing even more pain.

"You drove the pain away," Diego contradicted, tipping Orlando's head upward to meet his hungry gaze. "When I was inside you, I felt nothing but joy, mi amor," he murmured, stilling any further protest by the simple expedient of covering Orlando's mouth with his.

Orlando had no hope of resisting the kiss, his body reacting to Diego's touch like tinder to a brand, heat engulfing him instantly, overruling all his hesitations. He arched against his lover wantonly, feeling the other man's morning erection nudging his thigh. Eagerly, his legs parted, inviting the Spaniard to renew the intimate caresses that had brought them such bliss the night before.

The unrestrained eagerness of Orlando's response strengthened Diego's spirit as much as the night's rest had begun to restore his body. Rolling over, he let his weight settle on his lover's pliant form, deepening the kiss, his hips shifting to increase the friction as they pressed against each other's growing arousal. He had just palmed a handful of delectable backside when the outer door to the apartment slammed, sending Diego pushing to his feet. "Stay here," he hissed to Orlando as he moved toward the main room, all too aware that his sword and vizcaina were still in the hands of the Inquisition.

"Don't be stupid," Orlando retorted, launching himself out of bed after Diego. "Eric would have shouted a warning at least if there were danger. It's Roux and Íñigo, I'm sure. I'm impressed Roux kept him away this long." He caught himself before he slid beneath Diego's arm, wanting to urge his lover to lean on him but afraid to reawaken the older man's prickly pride. He would just watch and be ready to help if Diego truly needed him. "Put some clothes on and go reassure your ward."

Moving slowly but without assistance, Diego retrieved his spare pair of breeches from the clothes-press and pulled them on before entering the common room. "Once again, your timing is less than ideal," he groused to Roux as Íñigo ran to his side, anxious for reassurance that his guardian had not worsened while they were apart.

"Short of tying him to a chair, there was no way I could keep the boy away any longer," the gypsy replied, running his own assessing gaze over the swordsman. However his friend had passed the night, it did not seem to have done him any lasting harm.

"He has every right to be worried," Orlando agreed, coming into the room, breeches in place but bare from the waist up. "Sit down, Diego, and let the lad reassure himself. And while he's doing that, Roux can check your back. It still worries me that you bled through the bandages during the night."

"Some bleeding is to be expected, it will wash out any poisons," Roux said calmly, "but I will see when I change the bandages." He knelt before the swordsman, untying the knots that held the linen strips in place.

Immediately, Orlando and Íñigo moved to help, Orlando's hands sliding over Diego's chest with easy familiarity and a sureness of his welcome that left Íñigo standing uncomfortably to one side, unsure of his place in this suddenly shifting reality. Last night, the Capitán had sent him away in favor of Señor Bloom and now he turned to the Englishman instead of to Íñigo for something that would surely have been his task a few weeks ago. He frowned uneasily, wondering how he had been supplanted.

"We should finish your bath while the bandages are off," Orlando told Diego. "I did the best I could last night, but you'll feel better if you're completely clean. Íñigo, can you get the pitcher and a rag from the bedroom?"


Eager to help, Íñigo hurried into the bedroom to retrieve the requested items, only to draw up short at the sight of the rumpled bed, sheets in complete disarray. He looked around the rest of the room, taking in the clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor. Not sure how to interpret what he was seeing - not wanting to interpret it the way he would have if Caridad were the one in the other room - he grabbed the pitcher and a clean rag.

The last knots worked free, Roux eased the bloodied bandages from Diego's back, careful to dislodge as little of the clotted skin as possible. "Let us see how much damage you managed to inflict on yourself overnight."

"I was not the one on my back," Diego murmured, his eyes meeting Orlando's with a glint of warmth the gypsy had never before seen in his friend's expression.

"I wasn't either," Orlando retorted immediately, turning bright red as he realized what he had said and who had heard him. Despite his budding friendship with Roux, he was not completely comfortable with the idea of the gypsy knowing about the full extent of their relationship. All thoughts of being embarrassed disappeared as he turned to look at Diego's back. A stifled sob escaped his lips as he stared at the torn flesh, seeing the damage wrought by the Inquisition. "The bastards!" he cursed, one hand reaching out as if to touch, held back only by the realization that anywhere he touched would only cause his lover more pain.

"It is over," Diego insisted, catching Orlando's hand between both of his, raising it toward his lips when a cry from behind him made him turn toward his horrified ward.

Íñigo stood in the doorway between the rooms, pitcher and rag in hand, staring at the scene in front of him. He couldn't decide which was worse - the Capitán's back or the fact that his guardian was holding the Inglés' hand so tenderly. Setting the items he'd been sent to fetch on the table with trembling hands, he dipped the rag in the pitcher, intending to wash Alatriste’s back, to tend to him as he had always done when the swordsman was injured. He reached the Capitán's side only to have the rag taken from his hands. He watched for a moment as Señor Bloom ran the cloth tenderly over Alatriste's face before sliding it lower to wipe at the blood-stained skin of his guardian's chest. The gesture, combined with everything else he had seen that morning, snapped something inside him and he bolted for the door. His world was crumbling around him, and he could not stay to watch.

"Íñigo!" Diego commanded, his voice forceful enough to make the youth stop in his tracks. His expression softening, he beckoned Íñigo closer. "Beatings always look worse than they feel," he told his ward, hoping he would never have cause to learn differently. When the young man's worried look did not ease, Diego reached for him, pulling him into a rough hug. "I'll live," he assured Íñigo, holding his gaze until he saw the concern begin to lessen. "Go ask Caridad for breakfast and coffee - enough for the other Englishman too," he asked, knowing his ward would fret less if he was kept busy.

Íñigo nodded slowly, the security of being held by his adored guardian easing some of his fears. He clung a few moments more before rising to his feet and leaving the room at a pace resembling normal.

"Your back is not all that worries him," Roux observed, removing a handful of herbs from his pouch as Orlando carefully cleaned Diego's back.

Diego grimaced as he rested his hands on his knees, baring more of his back to Orlando's ablutions. "I will speak with him," he agreed, though he was not entirely sure what he could tell his ward. It was not as if he and Orlando had made any promises to each other; though Diego believed their lovemaking had meant as much to Orlando as it did to him, he could not see any way they could remain together once the threat to Orlando's life was ended.

"Would it be better if I made myself scarce while you talked?" Orlando asked, finishing his task and stepping aside so Roux could check on the swordsman. "I can keep Eric company for a while if you'd like."

"It would be easier," Diego agreed, though having reminded himself that their time together was limited, he begrudged even those moments they would spend apart – especially when Orlando would be spending them in the company of the big Englishman.

"I cannot see any sign of infection," Roux said with relief after examining Diego's back. He applied fresh herbs over the worst of the torn skin, holding them in place with clean bandages. "Try not to engage in anything too acrobatic for a few days, so you can begin to heal?"

"If he does, I'll just tie him to the bed," Orlando replied with a wink for Diego as he imagined everything he would do to his lover while he had him in such a position.

Before Diego could reply, the door from the hallway opened and Íñigo came back in, arms laden with a heavy tray full of pastries for breakfast. Orlando moved to help him, offering the youth a tentative smile. "Shall I take some down to Eric?" he offered, picking up one of the tarts and biting into it with relish. Their nocturnal activities had left him with an appetite now that he knew Diego would be all right given time to heal.

Roux packed up his bandages and rose also, lifting a pastry from the tray as he accompanied Orlando to the door. "I must check on your friend Javier, and then I have a few more avenues to explore regarding conde Lee," the gypsy added. "I will return to change your bandages this evening, and let you know what I have learned."

"Bring me an ensaimada?" Diego asked as the door closed behind the two older men, leaving him alone with his ward.

Íñigo was quick to do as his guardian asked, putting several of the light pastries on a plate and setting them before Alatriste. "Here you are, Capitán," he said softly. "You should eat so you can get better quickly."

"Gracias," the swordsman said after taking a bite of one of the pastries, realizing as he did how truly hungry he was. The food - if it could be called that - provided while he was imprisoned was barely edible, though he had forced himself to eat to preserve his strength. Pushing the rest of the flaky tart into his mouth, he smiled at Íñigo. "What would I do without you?"

"You seemed to do fine last night and this morning," Íñigo muttered, telling himself the resentment he felt was unworthy of the efforts Señor Bloom had gone to on the Capitán's behalf and yet still feeling betrayed by his guardian's obvious preference for the Englishman's company.

"Come here, Íñigo," Diego gestured for the young man to sit beside him. His moustache twitched as he frowned, searching for a way to reassure his ward. He was a man of action, not of words, but he knew he owed Íñigo an explanation of Orlando's place in his life. If only he understood it himself. Drawing a breath, he held Íñigo's gaze and motioned toward his back.

"Until this heals, I must rely on you, and Roux, and Señor Bloom for help," he began. "Señor Bloom - Orlando - he is..." He shook his head, his eyes softening as he realized there was no way he could explain what was in his heart to the younger man. "He is very special to me," he continued, lifting a hand as Íñigo started to speak. "He is very special, but once the danger facing him is gone, he will return to England."

Íñigo snorted in disbelief, his hand flying to his face to hide the disrespectful sound. "You did not see him these past few days," he countered, remembering Orlando's determination to help the swordsman, his fear that it hadn't worked. The image of the Englishman falling to his knees after they first returned from the Archbishop's palace haunted his thoughts. "I think..." He flushed a little as he considered all the implications of what he had seen and heard in the past few days. "I think you are very special to him, too. If it weren't for me, you could go with him even if he does return to England."

Alatriste might hope that Íñigo was correct, but even if it were true, it changed nothing. "What place would I have in England?" Diego shook his head. "My life is here, in Madrid, with you. Señor Bloom cannot change that."

"I'm sorry," Íñigo said softly, able to see the pain his guardian felt now that his own fears were allayed. "You're so much happier since he's been with us. Maybe... maybe he'd stay? If you asked?"

'And offer him what? A life of poverty, of taking whatever job would put enough reales in his pocket to keep a roof over their heads and a meal on the table?' Diego knew he couldn't answer Íñigo that way, so he merely shrugged. "That must be Señor Bloom's decision," he said, tousling the boy's hair. "Now, perhaps you could take my clothes to Caridad to be washed?"

Íñigo nodded, eager to help. He hurried into the other room and returned with the bundle of soiled cloth. "She'll have to mend them, too," he observed, seeing the rents in the seams and smelling the foul moldiness of the dungeons. "I still have Señor Bloom's pouch, from when I bought him clothes so he could convince the Archbishop to let you go. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you got something new to replace these."

"See what Caridad can do with them first," Alatriste directed, the innocent comment another reminder of how wide the gulf was between Orlando and himself. He rose stiffly, cursing the weakness that made his head reel for a moment until he grasped the chair back to steady himself. Waiting had never been one of his strengths; waiting helplessly for his body to heal was going to drive him mad.

Íñigo nodded again and carried the clothes downstairs, calling out a greeting to Señor Bloom and the other Englishman as he passed.

Seeing Íñigo carrying the bundle of clothes, Orlando called to the lad. "Are you taking those to be burned?"

"No," Íñigo replied, "the Capitán wants Caridad to wash them."

Orlando shook his head. "Burn them and buy something new for him. You still have money from earlier in the week, don't you?"

"Si, but the Capitán said..."

"The Capitán is too proud for his own good," Orlando replied before turning to Eric. "He'll need a new sword, too, and a vizcaina. Do you think you can find a good one for him?"

"I could," Eric said, "but if I go to look for them, I'll be leaving you unprotected."

"I'll lock the door," Orlando promised. "We'll be fine for a few hours. He'll feel much better just knowing he has weapons at hand again, even if he's really not strong enough to use them."

"I can take you," Íñigo suggested shyly. "I know where the Capitán bought his last sword. Surely we would find something there that he would approve of. And if not, I know another shop that sells good swords, too."

"Very well, lad," Eric agreed, clapping Íñigo on the shoulder. "Lead on." He paused to glance back at his erstwhile employer over his shoulder. "Be sure you lock the door and don't go out alone for any reason."

"I learned your lessons well," Orlando joked as he started back up the stairs. "Don't worry about us. We'll be fine." He couldn't stop the smile as he climbed, knowing they would be gone for a couple of hours at least and Roux not expected back until evening. A couple of hours alone with his lover... what a tempting prospect!

Reaching the apartment, Orlando walked inside, locking the door behind him and crossing the room to Diego's side. He was relieved to see the tray almost empty, a sure sign his lover had eaten something. "How are you feeling?" he purred, hoping to convince the swordsman to return to bed with him. "Did you manage to reassure Íñigo?"

Reflecting that he had not so much reassured Íñigo as he had discomposed himself, Diego shrugged. "He needs to feel useful," he said, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind. He would not allow them to affect the time he had with Orlando, however long that might be.

"Then I did the right thing by sending him to the market," Orlando replied with a relieved sigh. He did not want to cause tension between the swordsman and his ward, not when he could see how important they were to each other, not when Íñigo had rapidly become so important to him as well. "Eric went with him as well, to help him find you a new sword."

Alatriste's head snapped up at Orlando's words. "To do what?" The knowledge that Eric's departure had left Orlando unguarded was less disturbing than the idea of being dependent on the younger man to replace his weapons. He knew he would need to acquire a new sword and dagger soon, for Orlando's protection as well as his own livelihood, but he had hoped to make some arrangement with Roux. That Orlando had stepped in before he could do so in no way filled him with gratitude. "There is no need. I prefer to acquire my own weapons."

"They've already left," Orlando replied with a shrug, sliding his hand down Diego's arm to take his hand. "If you don't like what Eric brings back, that's fine. We'll look for something else, but Íñigo said he knew where you'd gotten your last sword. Surely they'll have something that meets your exacting standards."

"And how is Íñigo to pay for this sword?" Diego asked shortly, knowing to a reale how much money he had to his name - not enough to cover the cost of a decent vizcaina, let alone a length of good Toledo steel.

"He still has my purse from Monday when I sent him to buy me new clothes so I could bluff the Archbishop. There's enough in there for a sword for you," Orlando explained, tugging gently on Diego's hand. "You don't need to worry about Íñigo. Come back to bed."

"I am not an invalid to lie in bed all day," Diego protested, refusing to concede to the pain in his joints and back.

"I think you proved that quite well last night," Orlando retorted. "I was rather hoping you'd be interested in proving it again."

Despite his irritation, Orlando's suggestive comment, and the seductive voice in which he delivered it, sent a wave of heat through Diego. How could he wish to ravish him and to throttle him at the same time? But however strong the desire that tempted him to take Orlando to bed and forget everything but the pleasure they could bring one another, his pride would not allow him to let the matter go.

"Before we attempt to demonstrate my recovery, there is something you must understand," he persisted. Pushing to his feet, his grey-green eyes sparking as they met Orlando's, he began, "I earn my living by my sword. I am not always proud of the things I have taken pay to do; but I had not only myself to provide for, but Íñigo as well, and so I have done what I must.”

"Of course you have," Orlando answered, wondering why Diego felt the need to point out to him something he had known from the first days of their acquaintance. "I have always known that, but don't you see? Those days are over now. You don't have to worry about money any more."

"No!" Diego insisted, his eyes darkening in anger. "You cannot simply toss your purse at me and expect me to thank you for it!"

Orlando stared at his lover, flabbergasted. They had had this conversation once before and he had thought the issue resolved. Apparently, he had been wrong. "Is that what you think I'm doing?" he demanded, his own anger beginning to flare. "I can't change the way we met, nor would I if I could. I can't change our pasts or even our relative fortunes, and I won't pretend to be something I'm not. You told me you would take such help as I could offer, told me you would let me be a partner to you, not another charge, yet the first time I do just that, you slap me down as if I've done something wrong. Make up your mind."

"Partners?" Diego growled. "I do not recall your asking whether I wished you to provide me with a sword. You simply informed me and expect me to be grateful for your munificence."

Orlando's temper flared again. "And if I had come up and discussed it with you, would you have accepted? Or would we still be arguing over money and wasting time that Eric is now using to find you a sword?" He ran his hands through his hair and sighed when Diego did not answer him right away. He had the sinking feeling of his dreams slipping through his fingers like so much sand through the hourglass. His pride, his anger didn't matter when compared with what he hoped to gain. Letting them go, he looked up and met Diego's eyes.

"I know you're a proud man," he added more softly, "and it's one of the many things I love about you, but if we're to have any hope of building a life together, we have to resolve this. Tell me what would make it better. Would it truly help if I gave up my fortune?"

"I would not have you give up anything," Diego asserted, his own anger fading at the sorrowful note in Orlando's voice. The words of love, of building a life together, bolstered his spirit, though this argument only emphasized the gulf between their worlds. "Your generosity is but proof of your kindness of heart. But you have never known what it is not to have whatever you desire immediately at hand, so perhaps you cannot understand how difficult it is for one who has labored for everything he has to accept that generosity without feeling lessened." He frowned, his hand covering Orlando's as he struggled to make his lover understand. "What do I bring to this partnership you seek, when I cannot even serve as your protector? What can I offer you in return?"

Orlando stared at Diego in silence for a moment. Did his lover not know, not realize...? "You really don't see what you give me, do you?" he whispered in amazement. "Diego, you give me so much more than mere coin could buy, even all the gold in the King's treasury. You believe in me. Every time you touch me, every time you look at me, I feel like I can do anything, be anything. I told you how my father views me, how Eric saw me. You're the only one who has ever believed in me, and that gave me the strength to challenge the Inquisition for you rather than cowering helplessly, to face down the guards to save your friend rather than letting him go to certain death. Don't you see what that means to me? With you at my side, I might actually be a powerful man. Without you, I'm exactly what my father fears I'll amount to: nothing. My money is nothing compared to what you give me because what you give me, no amount of money could ever buy. It comes from you and you alone, your faith in me."

Stunned by Orlando's words, Diego lifted a hand to his lover's cheek, his abraded knuckles tracing the smooth jawline. "How can you doubt your strength?" he asked, his pride forgotten in the need to make Orlando see himself for the man he was, not the man his father and his life until now had taught him to believe he was. "It is as obvious as your beauty, and of far greater worth than all your gold."

"You are the only one who has ever looked beyond my beauty to see it," Orlando reminded him, leaning into the gentle caress. "Your belief in me brings it out because I want to be the man you see when you look at me, a man who might be worthy of your time, your regard, your love."

"Tienes mi amor," Diego vowed, closing the space between them to claim Orlando's lips, the kiss as much a promise as his words. "It is I who fear I am not worthy of you."

Orlando leaned into the kiss, relieved that the argument seemed to be over. "Perhaps that is a debate we could save for another time?" he teased gently. "I can think of a far better way to spend our morning alone."

"As can I," Diego agreed, his hand following the curve of Orlando's neck to his toned chest. He was sure there were still issues of importance they needed to discuss, but he was finding them harder to remember as he felt his lover's skin quiver beneath his touch, as he watched the younger man’s tawny nipple tighten at the mere approach of his hand.

"Come to bed, querido," Orlando urged, leaning into the questing fingers. "We will both be more comfortable there." His hand mimicked Diego's gesture, sliding beneath the ends of the bandages to slide through the curls, seeking taut flesh. Smiling seductively, he took a step back toward the bedroom, then another, waiting to see if Diego would follow.

Pausing only to confirm that the door was bolted, Diego turned to the bedroom, his eyes holding Orlando's as his lover enticed him, the smoldering ocher gaze promising much more than mere comfort. As he reached Diego's bed, Orlando's hands were already working the fastenings of his breeches, leaving him bare for his lover's hungry stare. Diego's glittering eyes swept from the still sleep-tousled chestnut hair crowning his lover’s face, down the graceful neck, strong torso, slender flanks and long legs and up again, pausing at the unmistakable evidence of Orlando's desire. "Hermoso," he murmured, stalking forward with a predatory stride.

Smile still in place, Orlando lay back across the bed. "What are you waiting for?" he teased huskily when Diego did not immediately undress. "An invitation? Or were you hoping I'd do it for you?" His hand stroked across his abdomen, brushing under the tip of his swelling cock, lifting it slightly, issuing the invitation in case Diego needed more incentive.

Diego kicked off his breeches, hissing slightly at the reminder of stiff muscles. Moving more carefully, he knelt on the bed, his hands cradling Orlando's hips as he bent forward to lick the head of the slender shaft, unable to resist what was so clearly being offered. Savouring the salty tang, he moved upward, his lips following the trail of hair that arrowed up Orlando's abdomen.

"Don't tease," Orlando pleaded, his skin quivering under Diego's amorous assault, the rasp of his lover's moustache only heightening the sensation. He tangled his fingers in the swordsman's shaggy hair, needing the connection amidst the waves of sensation rocking him already.

Dipping his tongue into the sweet declivity of his lover's navel, Diego shook his head, scraping his stubble over the smooth flesh. "I dreamed of this all the time we were apart," he rejoined, circling the tiny pucker, his hands sliding below Orlando's buttocks to lift him into the kiss. The weight was too much for his weakened arms to support for long, and with a muttered curse, he lowered Orlando back to the mattress, mouthing a moist path up the planes of his chest. When he reached a dusky nipple he let his breath caress it, his palms coasting up Orlando's torso until he could tease the pebbled nubs with his thumbs.

Orlando gasped at the tickling sensation of his lover's moustache against his belly, lifting into the kiss. When he felt Diego's muscles give out, an idea struck him even as he arched into the callused fingers. Scooting over to make room for Diego on the bed beside him, Orlando patted the mattress. "Lie down," he suggested, wanting to be able to reach more than just his lover's head and battered shoulders.

Though he could not admit it, Diego was grateful to ease onto his side, taking the weight off his swollen joints. As soon as he had settled, he reached for Orlando, frowning as the body he longed to feel against his pulled out of his reach. "Come back here," he growled impatiently. "I'm not done with you yet."

"I'm not going anywhere," Orlando soothed, shifting so his feet brushed the headboard. "I simply want to be able to touch you as well." He lowered his head and brushed his lips across Diego's belly. "You wouldn't deny me that, would you?"

Diego gasped, his cock leaping when Orlando's mouth opened against his stomach. "I can deny you nothing," he asserted, drawing Orlando's hips closer to nuzzle the dusky curls surrounding the base of his shaft, now easily within reach of his hands and his mouth. Taking his time, he explored the gracefully curved length with his lips and tongue, bathing every inch in moisture, capturing the pearls of fluid that seeped from the smooth tip.

Orlando cocked his knee, opening himself to Diego's hands and lips, wanting to give his lover complete access. He consciously refrained from rocking his hips into Diego's mouth, not wanting to choke him. He couldn't, however, stop the hiss of delight that escaped his lips at finally feeling the brush of the swordsman's silky moustache against his most sensitive skin. "Diego," he moaned in encouragement.

Spurred on by his lover’s sounds of enjoyment, Diego parted his lips, letting the head of the shaft slide into his mouth, his tongue teasing back the foreskin, tracing the slit to coax more of the milky fluid. With each breath, he slid lower, taking in more of the length, cupping the pendant sacs in a large palm. As Orlando's moans deepened, he drew his teeth gently over the taut skin, easing back and then down again, and again, until his lover was writhing against him.

Determined to give as much pleasure as he was receiving, Orlando dipped his head as well, mimicking the gestures that his lover bestowed on him, licking and sucking, working his tongue along the sensitive vein on the underside of Diego's cock. His hands reached around the older man's hips, closing over the firm flesh of his buttocks, kneading provocatively as he urged his lover to thrust deeper into his mouth.

Rocking into Orlando's caress, Diego couldn't hold back a deep groan as he pushed into the warm friction of his lover's mouth. Letting all his concerns about their future together dissipate, he gave into the emotions driving him and the desire he had held in check for so long. Taking Orlando's cock in hand, his lips moved lower, first laving and then sucking the loose skin of his sacs, taking each into his mouth in turn, relishing the musky taste. Letting the globes slide from his lips, he tongued the sensitive skin behind them, fisting Orlando with long, slow strokes as his other hand parted his lover's cheeks, his moustache brushing either side as he licked down the crease.

Orlando quivered with delight as he realized Diego's intention. His grip on his lover's hips tightened, his mouth working with even greater enthusiasm along the length of the other man's cock. He dared not reciprocate this particular caress, not sure Diego would accept it, but that did not stop him from tracing his fingers along the divide between the muscular globes as he swallowed the length of his lover's erection.

His pride swelling at his lover’s responsiveness, Diego’s tongue found the target it sought at the same moment Orlando's fingers slid between his buttocks. Wetting the small portal well, he sucked it lightly before breaching it with his tongue, stroking inside with the same sure rhythm of his hand over his lover's shaft. His own fever rising as Orlando's mouth enveloped him, he pressed deeper, needing to assure his lover's pleasure before capitulating to his own.

Orlando moaned around the thick shaft in his mouth at the feeling of Diego's agile tongue working its way inside him. His body ached for release, and he knew it wouldn't take much more. Not quite ready to succumb, though, he concentrated on increasing his lover's pleasure, bobbing his head slightly to keep a constant pressure on the tip of Diego's cock. Emboldened by his passion, he dipped his fingers a little deeper into the sweaty crease, barely brushing the tight entrance. He made no move to penetrate the tiny ingress, nor would he without discussing it with Diego first, but he knew how pleasurable attention to even the outer ring could be.

Even the lightest touch of Orlando's fingers was enough to nearly snap Diego's tenuous control. Responding in kind, he traced a fingertip around his lover's rippled entrance, his lips twitching in a slight smile as it clenched around his probing tongue. Gently, he worked the calloused digit inside the damp passage, careful not to cause his lover pain. The long finger could reach where his tongue could not, and he rubbed the small nub of nerves at the same time his thumb caressed the head of Orlando's cock, willing him to come.

The friction against his sweet spot destroyed what little remained of Orlando's control. With a muffled shout around Diego's cock, he came hard, the creamy fluid splattering over his lover's hand and chest, staining the ends of the bandages. He swallowed hard, hoping it would be enough to trigger his lover's climax in return.

Orlando's release was the catalyst Diego had waited for, the convulsive tightening of his lover's mouth around his cock setting off his own explosive orgasm. Arching deep into the moist heat as he came, the involuntary thrust of his hips allowed the tip of Orlando's finger to penetrate him, prolonging the waves the waves of ecstasy that washed through him.

Diego's release hit Orlando’s tongue in wave after hot wave, filling his mouth as he tried to swallow it all. The movement of the other man's hips caught him off guard, his finger slipping inside past the clenching muscle, the tight heat spawning images of replacing his digit with another, more sensitive appendage. He groaned at the thought, his cock twitching dryly as he imagined what it would feel like. Reminding himself not to ask for more than Diego would be willing to give, he turned his attention to cleaning his lover's shaft.

Sated and drained, Diego sank back to the mattress, lifting his hand to his lips to savour the taste of his lover's release. Seeing Orlando watching him, he beckoned him to return to his embrace. "Come here," he murmured, "let me hold you until the others return."

Swiftly, Orlando shifted so he could settle against Diego's chest, nuzzling his lover's neck tenderly. "Te amo," he whispered as he draped his arms around the other man, trying to position them so they would not cause any additional pain.

“Siempre,” Diego promised, his eyes drifting closed as he fell into peaceful sleep.


tbc…

Comments

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

I'm so in love with this fic, I'm a sucker for historical stories!!

I'm wondering how they'll be making their relationship work....if at all they do.
And then there's Inigo....

Amazingly well done, as always!!

Thanks for sharing, hugs and kisses!!

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

We both enjoy writing historicals too, which is one reason this has grown as long as it has! And there are still a few more twists and turns before the finish.

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

Yay!! Thanks!!

[sarkka]

*bliss*


I'm little worried about their future though....

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

They are too - it's not an easy situation to find an answer to, but there are still a few chapters to go for them to work out a resolution.