vigorli

Title: Purity of Intention (19/22)
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:

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 conde has a weakness, it seems."

"What is it?" Orlando asked, voicing the question on the minds of everyone in the room.

Roux's grin broadened. "His vanity," he replied. "With his desire to impress the king, he has hired a number of new servants temporarily. Thanks to Javier's introductions, most of those men are my people. When the time comes to confront the conde, we will not face him alone."

Javier flushed with pride at Roux's acknowledgement. "I am glad I could be of some help," he said softly. "I fear my fighting days are behind me, but I would do what I can to repay my debt to you all."

"There is no debt between friends," Diego insisted, clapping the older man gently on the shoulder. "And do not count the worth of your aid so cheaply. It will take more than just blades to put an end to Conde Lee's treachery."

"Indeed," Roux agreed. "We would be in much worse straits without your aid. None of our plans will do us any good, however, if we cannot find some proof of Lee's treachery, and while we know he was McKellen's lover, we have no proof even of that, much less of what we suspect to be true. And Lee is too well connected for the king to listen to us, even to Orlando, without something to back up our claims."

"We can't just let him succeed," Orlando protested. "If he does, none of us will be safe, but Diego especially."

"Then we need to find some proof we can bring to the king," Diego agreed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Bana scouted Lee's apartments for us earlier," he admitted, still uneasy at relying on the big Englishman for something he would normally have done himself. "The conde took most of his servants with him to his estate; there is only one left here from what he could determine. It should be easy enough to get past him so we can search."

"What do you hope to find?" Javier asked, a little in awe of what his compatriots intended.

"Proof that he is the co-conspirator in a plot against the king," Roux replied honestly. "The other one is dead already, thanks to proof Diego provided, but while we know there is a plot and suspect Lee of being involved, we can't yet prove it. Hopefully, he will be as careless as his lover and will have left something around for us to find. If not, we will have to hope we can prevent whatever he has planned and unmask him that way."

Honoured by the trust shown to him, Javier nodded. "I wish I could be of more help to you," he said sadly. "My family is gone, my possessions seized by the Inquisition. All I have left is my knowledge and my memories, but I will share them with you gladly."

"We will call on them both again before we leave for the conde's meeting," Diego answered. "For now, we need to decide how best to gain access to his rooms here in Madrid." He glanced at Roux, his gaze thoughtful. "Perhaps the direct approach is best. It would be easy enough to overpower a single servant."

"Is the servant male or female?" Roux countered. "We could overpower one servant easily enough, but that tips our hand if the servant has any loyalty to the conde. It's only Wednesday, which leaves two days for word to get to Lee of our presence."

Diego looked to Orlando, who had spoken with Bana when the bodyguard returned, with a raised eyebrow. "Given the conde's proclivities, I assumed male."

"No," Orlando replied with a shake of his head, "Eric said it was a girl. He was surprised enough by that to remark it in particular. The conde must have taken all the male servants with him."

Roux smiled. "Are you up for a walk this evening, Íñigo?" he asked, turning to the younger man. "I always prefer distraction to force when possible."

"Me?" Íñigo stammered in disbelief. It had always been his greatest wish to join the Capitán on his adventures – he could scarcely believe Roux was actually offering him this chance. He looked to his guardian for confirmation. "You want me to help you?" The Capitán inclined his head in agreement, transforming Íñigo’s nervous hesitation into a fierce determination to prove himself worthy of their trust.

"Better you than Orlando," Diego countered, the thought of watching his lover flirt with another, for any reason, sparking a flare of possessive jealousy. Understanding now what Orlando might have felt at seeing him with Caridad, Diego smiled at his ward reassuringly. "You have only to draw her away for a time, long enough to allow us to search."

"I will not fail you," Íñigo assented proudly.

"You haven't seen her yet," Roux teased gently. "She could be old enough to be your grandmother and look like the witch from your mother's fairy tales."

"It doesn't matter what she looks like," the young man vowed, though he couldn't repress a shudder at the thought.

Orlando took pity on Íñigo. "I haven't seen her either, but Eric said she looked young, younger than he is, anyway," he reassured the lad. "I'm sure she'll fall for your charm immediately."

"And when she does, Roux and I will see what the conde may have left for us to find," Diego added, hoping that Lee would prove as indiscreet as his lover had been.

~~~*~*~~~

Diego waited in the gathering darkness until Íñigo and the conde's maidservant had disappeared around the corner of the quiet street. Were the circumstances not so serious, he might have smiled at the ease with which the young man had captured the serving girl’s interest, after knocking on the door with the pretext of having a message to deliver to the conde. He would need to have a talk with his ward about the ways of a man with a maid soon, it seemed. Nodding to his companions, the swordsman stepped from the shadows toward the opulent apartments the conde kept as his residence when in attendance at court. Normally there would be at least half a dozen servants seeing to the nobleman's needs, but Lee had taken all but the young housemaid with him to the gathering at his country estate.

Orlando couldn't swallow his smile at the sight of Íñigo and the girl. "She's pretty enough for even the most discerning young man," he commented softly as he followed Diego and Roux across the street and took up his post just inside the portico to the conde's apartments.

Pausing to allow Roux to precede him, Diego's body blocked the view from the street, allowing him to risk running a long finger down his lover's cheek. "Whistle if there is any danger," he murmured, holding Orlando's gaze and rubbing the fingertip over his moist bottom lip, before stepping away and following the gypsy inside. He reminded himself that Orlando had proven well able to care for himself, but that did not make leaving him unprotected any easier, even for the few minutes it would take to search Lee’s rooms.

Orlando shivered at the touch, wishing he could lean in and kiss Diego, but even the protection of the taller man's broad shoulders was not enough to hide that gesture. Instead, he nodded, hoping Diego could read his emotions – and his desire – in his eyes.

Roux couldn't stop a smile at the show of affection between the two men. He had known the Inglés would be good for his friend. He just hadn't realized how good. When Diego joined him at the top of the stairs, though, he set those thoughts aside. "Shall we see if the conde's arrogance extends to leaving papers lying around?"

At Diego's nod, he tried the door, finding it locked. "The boy still has some things to learn if he can't distract a girl enough that she forgets to lock the door behind her," he commented teasingly, bending to pick the lock. In a matter of moments, it opened to his skilled hands.

"Let us hope he has many years ahead in which to learn," Diego responded dryly, the idea making him feel his years.

"We'll make sure of it," Roux promised. Diego had made the promise to Lope, Íñigo's father, but Roux felt the same responsibility, even if he was less central in Íñigo's eyes. "Let's get this done. It's been far too easy, and that makes me nervous."

"I have no desire to impose on the hospitality of the Inquisition, or even the high constable, again," Diego agreed. His keen eyes scanned the room, seeking the most likely places to begin their search. "See if you can find the conde's personal chambers," he suggested. "I will begin here." He crossed the entrance hall to a formal sitting room and began pulling out drawers to examine their content.

Roux shook his head at Diego's sardonic humour and disappeared down the hall, opening doors as he went until he found an opulent bedchamber that was surely the conde's purview. Shaking his head again at the squandered fortune that could have been much better used improving conditions for the tenants on Lee's estates, Roux began a methodical search of the room, pulling out drawers, riffling through linens, ransacking every possible hiding place. The conde had more than one secret, he quickly discovered, but none of them would serve as evidence of his plot against the king. When he found a riding crop in among the cuffs and toys, his face tightened. He sincerely hoped Diego was having better luck, but one way or another, he was determined to see Lee brought down. Finding nothing else in the bedroom, he headed back toward the entrance, crop in hand.

The first drawer Diego opened contained nothing but invitations to various balls and dinners. The second was filled with an assortment of writing paper and quills. In the third drawer, however, he found a cache of letters. Sitting back in one of the luxuriously padded chairs, he scanned them rapidly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the purport of the missive in his hand. "Roux!" he called softly, anger tightening his voice at the nobleman's arrogance in not only putting his filth into writing, but leaving it where the simplest search could find it. "The conde has been most reckless – he has given us just what we hoped to find."

"And more," Roux replied with a moue of disgust, holding out the crop for Diego to see. "What does he have to fear? He thinks you're dead, he doesn't know about me, and I'm quite sure he didn't expect Orlando to come into his own the way he has this past week."

"Lee keeps only carriage horses in town," Diego retorted with a scowl that said he knew very well the uses the conde had for a whip did not involve riding. "His letters make quite clear what use he thought to put to Orlando." Diego rose, stuffing the sheaf of letters angrily into the breast of his coat, more determined than ever to bring the conde to justice for his sins. "Let's get out of here, the very air stinks of his taint."

"We have what we need, don't we?" Roux asked, face hardening at the thought of the young man he had come to know and respect at the hands of such a monster. Diego nodded. "Then there's no reason to linger."

Diego's taut nerves eased a bit when they exited the conde's rooms to rejoin Orlando, still watching the street from the shelter of the shadowed portico. Unbidden, the sight of his lover was for a moment replaced with the vile images from Lee’s letter, filling his throat with bile.

"Any luck?" Orlando asked, not sure how to read the tight expressions on their faces.

"Si," Diego assented, his visage grim. "The conde was as careless as we hoped. He left a stack of correspondence to be found." He would not share details in the street, but his grimace made his opinion of the content clear. "I need a drink – that tavern off the plaza has a courtyard. We can watch for Íñigo to return from there." He strode away angrily, his cloak snapping behind him.

Roux let him go, shaking his head when Orlando would have gone after him immediately. "Give him a moment to calm down," the gypsy advised. "He doesn't take any threat to you lightly, but the conde is worse than most."

Orlando's eyes followed his retreating lover. He understood Diego's reaction – he had felt the same way when he'd heard about Diego's arrest. He simply nodded at Roux, not wanting to discuss such things in public. He let the gypsy set the pace as they walked down the street to the tavern.

As it was, they had barely ordered a bottle of wine from a barmaid quite pleased to serve three such handsome caballeros when Diego spotted Íñigo, heading back toward the conde's dwelling with the young housemaid on his arm.

Seeing Íñigo at the same time, Roux waited until they were well within view and then let out a loud, appreciative whistle. That he generally preferred male company to female was irrelevant at the moment, and the girl really was quite lovely. She would be flustered, but would otherwise think nothing of his expression of appreciation.

Íñigo looked about, indignant at the insult to the young woman he was escorting. Constancia was very friendly and Íñigo was already thinking of visiting her again once matters with the conde were settled. He scanned the patio of the tavern across the street, recognizing the Capitán, Roux and Señor Bloom at one of the tables. He held the Capitán's gaze for a moment and then bent to murmur a reassurance to Constancia, assuring her of his protection against such crude advances.

Holding his ward's eye and nodding in Roux's direction, Diego picked up the bottle to take with them, tossing a few coins on the tabletop. "Íñigo will know to meet us in your rooms," he told the gypsy. "We can examine the letters more closely there."

They made their way quickly back to Roux's lodgings, the swords at their waists and their confident strides ensuring no one bothered them, even in the more dangerous section of the city that lay between the conde's apartments and their goal. When the door to Roux's rooms had shut behind them, Orlando turned to Diego. "What was in those letters?"

"Let us see," the swordsman answered, tossing the packet onto the inlaid table. "We did no more than scan them at the conde's lodgings, though that was enough to see they could be the proof we need." Pulling around a chair and reaching for one of the letters, Diego reminded himself how damning McKellen's correspondence's had proven to be. He had already read enough to know the conde felt even less need for discretion than his deceased lover.

"This is from McKellen," Diego said as he worked through the Englishman's scrawl. "It says – " he paused for a moment, his jaw tightening, "he has found a hireling to bring Señor Bloom back to Madrid." At Javier's puzzled expression, Diego explained, "That is how this began – McKellen paid me to find Orlando, claiming he had run away from his family." He did not add that McKellen had intimated the young man had run off with his lover – or that he had not been too scrupulous to take the money in any case. "He is sure that once they have the chief negotiator's son in their hands, he will be more amenable to listening to reason."

Seeing Diego's expression, Orlando gave in to the temptation to squeeze the Spaniard's hand soothingly. "And you helped me avoid their trap," he reminded his lover gently. "Is there anything else in that one? Knowledge of one Englishman conspiring against another will not be enough to condemn the conde, even if it proves he helped."

Judging that McKellen's salacious comments about the charms of the chief negotiator's son would do nothing but fan the flames of his own anger, Diego shook his head and reached for another letter. "This is from McKellen as well – the bastardo he hired will not give the boy up." The corner of his heavy moustache twitched in a wry smile. "He has hired two more bravos to take him from me." The smile twisted as he remembered the outcome of that confrontation – one man dead, another wounded, and a sword through his own shoulder to keep Orlando safe.

"This one is far more damning," Roux interrupted. "It seems to be from Lee and it's unfinished, but he writes that if they cannot get the boy, they will just have to influence the negotiations another way." He read a little more, then let out a low whistle. "He means to blame the negotiators for his crime."

Orlando's face grew grim. The threat to the Spanish king bothered him only in the power it would give to Lee – and what that represented for Diego's future. The threat to his father, however difficult their relationship, was something entirely different. "Is it enough to denounce him? Does he specify what he intends to do?"

Roux shook his head. "McKellen knew their plans. There would have been no reason to lay them out again, but the collection of letters might be enough. After all, McKellen was convicted of plotting against the crown and these place Lee in definite contact with the late, unlamented cabrón." Reading the final paragraph, Roux frowned before passing the letter to Diego. "It was no accident you were taken by the Inquisition."

"What?" Orlando exclaimed, rising from his seat to peer over Diego's shoulder at the cramped writing.

"I did not imagine it was," Diego answered, skimming over the more ornate script. "Someone with the conde's standing would find it easy to drop a word in the Grand Inquisitor's ear. Though he has cojones, I give him that, to accuse me of what he is guilty of himself...." His voice bit off suddenly at an extremely explicit description of the ways Lee and McKellen might amuse themselves with the chief negotiator's son until matters were settled in their favour. Grey-green eyes hardened to chips of ice, he handed the missive back to Roux. "There is enough here to convict him of sodomy, if not of treason," he growled, vowing that whether the conde ultimately answered to the king or to the Holy Office, he would answer to Diego Alatriste first.

Orlando had protested denouncing McKellen for sodomy, but now, seeing the perversions the two men had planned for him and knowing that Lee was not above using any lie to achieve his ends, he set his scruples aside. In this case, the ends most certainly justified the means. Before he could voice that opinion, though, a knock sounded at the door.

"Hide the letters," Roux ordered as he rose from his seat, tucking the paper in his hand into his vest.

Íñigo swept into the room, his high spirits at winning his first kiss from a lovely young woman fading at the grim expressions of the men gathered around the table. "What did I miss?" he asked.

~~~*~*~~~

They had filled Íñigo in, leaving out the details he didn't need to hear, then took their leave of Roux and Javier. Orlando had seen Íñigo's hesitation, but with Roux returned, the youth had no reason to stay with Javier any more. Hoping to ease the tension, he had twitted the lad gently about the time it had taken him to return to Roux's rooms. In his haste to defend himself, Íñigo had followed them without thinking. Now back at the Tavern of the Turk, Orlando felt the awkwardness return as he and Diego left Íñigo to sleep on his cot while they retired to the bedroom. Their time of total privacy had come to an end. "It's not quite the same with Íñigo in the next room, is it?"

Tossing his garments over the clothes-press, Diego shrugged and stretched out on the bed, waiting for Orlando to undress and join him. "He is not so much of an innocent as you think." Though it gave him no pleasure to admit it, Orlando surely knew Diego was no monk. He had always done his best to behave discreetly before his ward, but it was not always possible to send Íñigo away when Caridad, for one, visited his bed. "So long as we are quiet, we will not disturb him."

Orlando finished undressing and slid into bed next to Diego, stretching along his lover's side, enjoying every point of contact. He chose not to reflect on those who had been there before him. He had no claim on Diego's past regardless of his plans for his lover's future. Those former lovers were gone. He was the one in Diego's bed now. "That is easier said than done," he joked. "You make me forget everything but your hands on me. You'll just have to find a way to keep me quiet."

"I suppose I could gag you," Diego mused, hiding a grin at the flare of shock in his lover's dark eyes. "But that would prevent me from doing this." He rolled them over, ignoring the twinges of pain from barely-healed muscles, settling between Orlando's legs and pinning their joined hands on either side of the head of dusky curls while muffling Orlando's mouth with his own. His tongue swept possessively through the moist cavern, coaxing Orlando to answer in kind, feeding the hunger that had built throughout the day despite the urgency of the tasks they faced.

Orlando arched into the kiss, his surprise at Diego's comment fading quickly beneath the passionate onslaught. All thought of Íñigo in the next room, indeed of anything outside their bed, disappeared as he gave himself over wholly to his lover's care. They could do nothing else about the conde tonight anyway, but even if they could have, he needed this interlude, this reaffirmation of their unspoken promises too much to let anything intrude. He broke the kiss long enough to whisper, "Make me yours."

As much as I am yours, Diego would have answered, but his lips were already molded to Orlando's again, his body rocking in an unconscious rhythm that brushed their cocks together, silken skin sliding over steely hardness. Releasing his lover's hands, his palms mapped the muscles of forearm and bicep, measuring strong shoulders before coasting down the smooth chest, thumbs finding hardened nipples through touch alone. He rubbed and tugged until Orlando writhed beneath him, swallowing the moans that shook from the younger man's chest with each tweak of the sensitized flesh.

Orlando tried to stifle his moans, but that was an exercise in futility with Diego driving him wild. He squirmed beneath his lover, wanting his hands lower but not willing to break the kiss to issue the request. Instead, he slid his own hands lower, clenching them tightly on the firm globes of Diego's buttocks, using that pressure to urge him on.

Humming his approval of Orlando's hands clasping him closer, Diego's movements intensified, each thrust of his hips dragging their leaking erections against each other and against the slickening skin of their bellies. He was tempted to slide downward to taste that harsh creaminess, to sample it directly from its source, but that would mean giving up Orlando's mouth, and that was something he could not bring himself to do. Instead, he freed a hand and dragged it through the dampness between them, gliding over their cocks for a moment before the sensation became too much for him to bear without losing control. Raising his hand back to his mouth, he lapped at it without releasing Orlando's lips, his tongue gathering the pearlescent fluid to share with his lover, the sharp taste mixing with the sweetness of Orlando's mouth, intoxicating him with the mingled flavours.

Orlando gasped as he tasted himself on Diego's hand and tongue. He thrust up harder against his lover's weight, wrapping his legs around Diego's hips and grinding them together. He needed the swordsman inside him, driving deep and hard into his depths. Blindly, he reached for the oil on Diego's bedside table, pressing it into his lover's hand. He hoped the Spaniard would take the hint, would take him, and soon.

His need spiraling with each nudge of Orlando's legs against his backside, Diego fumbled to open the oil without lifting his head, spilling some on the bedsheets in his haste to coat his fingers. He slid a slick digit into the channel between Orlando's legs, too ardent for subtlety as he worked to stretch the opening to receive him, his tongue mimicking the strokes and swirls of his fingers in the tight passage. Sooner than he knew he should, he pushed to his knees, spreading Orlando's legs apart and positioning himself to press inside. "Mi tesoro," he whispered against his lover's lips, a single firm thrust surrounding him in Orlando's embrace, a shudder of pure bliss wracking his frame at the perfection of their bodies' joining.

Orlando shouted his pleasure into Diego's mouth as he felt himself claimed again. His grip tightened as he flexed his inner muscles. He broke their kiss long enough to whisper, "Harder!" before attacking his lover's mouth in the hopes of inspiring the pounding he desired. He braced his feet on the mattress to get the leverage he needed to participate fully in his own reaming.

The adrenaline of the day's events, and the very real possibility that, if things went ill, this could be the last time he made love to Orlando, lent an urgency to their coupling that Orlando's wanton movements only intensified. The whispered plea snapped any pretense of control, and Diego cupped his hands beneath Orlando's buttocks and slammed their bodies together, rocking with a primal fever to bury himself, brand himself on his lover's skin, fill him so completely that Orlando would never be free of him, no matter what transpired tomorrow.

Orlando's grunts sounded in time with Diego's thrusts as he met each ingress with his hips, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm as old as time. Orlando had no idea what the next few days would bring, but whatever happened, he intended to have these memories to hold onto. His fingers dug into the muscles on Diego's back, heedless of the still healing stripes. He clung to the strong frame like a lifeline, needing that connection, every possible connection, against the storm of uncertainty that faced them.

All too quickly, Diego felt his climax welling in his groin, threatening to overpower him. Pinning Orlando to the mattress with the force of his thrusts, he worked a hand between them to grasp his lover's shaft, his other hand cradling the back of Orlando's skull as he ravaged his mouth and his cock, intent on bringing him to the same fierce peak of ecstasy. The long, slow groan as he orgasmed swallowed in their kiss, he clutched Orlando's body to his, tremors shaking through them both for long moments after.

The rush of heat as Diego's release filled him made Orlando moan with the sense of communion at this intense sharing of body and soul. He hadn't known what it was to make love with someone until he met Diego. He collapsed beneath his lover's weight, too sated to care if he could breathe or not. He cared only about extending the moment as long as possible. "I love you," he murmured against the thin lips.

"Te adoro," Diego answered in a voice heavy with satiation. Claiming a final, slow kiss, he rolled to one side, carrying Orlando with him in a tangle of limbs. His body still ached from the depredations of the Inquisition, but every torment he had suffered was worth this moment of repletion. Resting his chin in a bed of dark curls, he exhaled deeply, the peace of the moment seeping into his bones and strengthening him for the demands of the days ahead.

tbc…