Matthew slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning as he dreamt of Christopher's hands and lips on him; drawing out the most exquisite pain that he could ever imagine. When dawn finally showed its face he was tangled in a fur; his hair lying wildly about him on his pillow. A soft hand on his shoulder had him sighing and he blinked his chocolate eyes open, sleep blurring the image in front of him until he thought that he was still dreaming. Hesitantly he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hazy wrist; drawing its owner into bed with him. Unlike his other dreams, this vision of his master thrashed a bit, putting up a slight fight until Matthew growled and claimed his lips, thrusting his tongue into the warm cavern on his mouth as his hands slipped under his silken tunic.
Matthew's fingers brushed against the soft skin, pushing the tunic up until it was almost shoulder height then moving into the sun kissed tresses that were flowing freely around both their faces. In his other dreams Matthew was the one being dominated; but he was going to make this one end differently. He wasn't going to be the one whining and crying out into the bedding as his master took his pleasure; he was going to be the one doing the taking, ramming in again and again until they reached that beautiful plateau where their bodies and minds fractured and their throats screamed themselves raw while they tumbled into the dark abyss as one entity. He tugged lightly on his masters' hair and was rewarded with a soft moan that spurred him on until he ripped his starving lips away and fastened them onto the creamy expanse of his throat.
Hands pawed and pushed at his shoulders and the small jolts was enough to wake him up completely, a horrified expression on his face when he seen that Christopher was indeed in his bed; his hair a snarled mess and his tunic hiked up to his armpits from where Matthew had been caressing the smooth, strong chest. With a garbled yelp Matthew scooted down to the end of the bed and all but fell off, his lips still tingling from the hungry kisses that he pressed to Christopher's rose petal soft lips. He didn't know what had come over him, he had never wanted to taste another man before, yet even as he stood there he couldn't deny that he wanted more; wanted another taste of the treatment that he had gotten on the long boat. There was something about Christopher that had wormed its way into Matthew psyche in the short time they'd been around one another, and not even his own brother had known about the dreams that plagued him at night after the encounter on the boat or how he wanted another go round to see if he could once more dominate the proud Viking.
"I-I—" Matthew stuttered, his stomach telling him that he was about to be put to death for the sleep induced mistake.
Christopher pulled himself from the bed, straightening his clothing and quickly braiding his hair into one long plait; his blue eyes slightly clouded over. His mind was whirling faster with every beat of his heart; wanting Matthew to continue the delicious assault but knowing that now that he was awake that he'd be shown nothing but Matthew's contempt that he held for the entire Viking race. The poor boy looked like he was about to expire on the spot, his chest heaving and his kiss swollen lips parted as barely audible pants ghosted through. Working a neutral expression onto his face Christopher stepped close; inhaling Matthew's scent before speaking.
"You wanted to go see your brother this day, did you not?" Christopher asked; acting as though impassioned kisses never took place.
"Yes." Matthew nodded his head and dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to look to at him.
"Then get dressed. We'll leave after you've broken your fast."
Christopher then turned on his heel and left, the heavy fur flapping closed behind him silently. For a moment Matthew stood there, his mind trying to wrap itself around what had happened. He pressed his fingers to his lips; feeling the pleasant swelling that always followed a sound kissing and let a breathy sigh expel from them. With a mental shake he moved over to the spindle legged chair in the corner of the room and picked up the clothing that Christopher must had brought with him. It was still a simple homespun tunic but it was dyed a jewel tone blue and the trousers a light cream color. He ripped Hunter's homespun off and tossed it into another corner of the room; growling when the neck line caught on the leather collar cuffed about his throat. He took a moment and ran his finger over it; the smooth leather length feeling odd and heavy against his skin. His short nails grazed over it, scrabbling for something that could would release his throat from it's bound prison.
Towards the back of his neck was a smooth metal ring hooked through two holes punched in the leather. He growled as he then ran the palm of his hand over the still healing wound from where they linked the burning hot metal. Of course had he not moved he never would have gotten burned, but that fact didn't register with him. All that had filtered through his mind was that he was being held down with his breathing being choked out by someone behind him and the searing hot feel of white hot metal against his skin. The smell of burning flesh had him gagging through his screams, yet nothing had dulled the pain, nothing had stopped it. With a disgruntled growl he dropped his hand and stalked into the main room; softening his glare when he seen Helga standing in front of the hearth stirring something in the large black cauldron.
"Have a seat Matthew." She commanded; surprising Matthew. "Don't just stand there. Christopher wants you eat before you leave for Master Adam's hall."
She still hadn't turned around and Matthew cautiously took a seat on one of the stool by the long trestle table, wondering if maybe Helga possessed some type of magick that he should be worried about. When she finally turned around she had a serene smile on her face and in her hands a piping bowl of what looked to be oatmeal yet smelled vaguely of rotting fish. She sat it down and handed Matthew a spoon, smirking when it looked like he was going to politely push the offering away.
"The sooner you eat the sooner you can go see your brother."
Matthew wanted to fight, to childishly whine until she let him go without taking one bite of the fowl smelling glop in the bowl but judging by the look he was getting Matthew had the feeling that his protests would fall on deaf ears. He grimaced and dipped his spoon into the mixture; telling himself that it wouldn't kill him. As the spoon neared his lips he swallowed; the smell waft up and getting stronger with each passing second. Like a man being led to the gallows he closed his eyes and quickly stuck the spoon in his mouth, trying to get it down his throat with as little as possible touching his tongue. He heard laughter and opened his eyes, scowling around the spoon as Christopher leaned against the door frame for support.
"If you put honey on it, it tastes better." He managed to get out between guffaws.
Matthew shoveled more into his mouth, choking it back in his need to get away from the hall—away from the site of his humiliation. Soon the bowl was empty and he stood, forcing a smile as he walked over to where Christopher was leaning causally in the doorway; his head turned and his gaze locked on something out in the yard. Matthew coughed slightly to get his attention, his cheeks turning pinkish when the blonde man turned and pinned him with his eyes. Matthew dropped his eyes, his mind replaying the fevered kisses and heated groping. He jumped when Christopher placed a hand on his arm; his eyes narrowing as he yanked his arm away.
"Come Matthew; let's go check on your brother."
It was said with a resigned sigh and for a moment Matthew just stood there watching as Christopher started across the wilting lawn. When he turned around and looked back the sun shone from his sunny locks; lighting them up and making it seem as though he was shining from an internal light source. Christopher beckoned him forwards, calling out that if he really wanted to stay at the long house he was welcome to. Matthew hurried across the yard, his thoughts confused as he tried to make out what was going on. It was as though his body was rebelling on him and making him crave something that he had no business craving. As they headed across an empty field Matthew found his eyes drawn again and again to Christopher, more precisely his hips and the way they swayed when he walked. It was a rather feminine saunter that the blonde had but Matthew had to admit that it suited him.
He was so wrapped in his tumbling thoughts that he didn't realize at first that they had reached their destination. If fact it was Christopher muttering under his breath that alerted him and he looked over a frown creased his features; twisting them cruelly yet giving the blonde man an angry beauty. He wanted to ask and had even opened his mouth to do so but the door to the long house was tugged open and the bald priest was standing there, his heavy brow furrowed as he looked down at them. Matthew stiffened as he flicked his eyes up and down his form then switched his gaze to Christopher; leering at the blonde before speaking.
"Well, well. Seems like one thrall came to visit another, looks like some things never change."
At first Matthew thought that he was talking about him coming to see his brother but bit his lip when Christopher balled his fist at his side and growled. The action was a strange one and confused Matthew even more when Christopher batted away the large hand that reached up to cup his face.
"Still feisty I see."
"Let us pass Jacobs; we have urgent business to attend to."
Laughingly the tall man moved to the side, his blue eyes glinting with something other than the mirth that twisted his lips. Matthew felt his hackles rise as the quickly gripped Christopher's wrist and pulled him close; colliding him into the hard wall of his chest. Christopher didn't move, his face turned upwards as he swallowed hard and trembled. It was almost as if he were afraid of the bald man. Matthew stepped forwards, whether to intervene or not was never found out. From behind the priest another voice sounded, making them all turn and look. Adam was standing, his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the two men.
"What have I told you, there is to be no fighting in my hall. Not after the last one where you sent my cook into the cooking fire and the poor woman perished because no one could hear her screaming over the ruckus that you two were making."
He said it with such a straight face that Matthew's eyes widened as he pictured it. Christopher nodded and finally moved past the large man, calling softly over his shoulder for Matthew to follow him. Silently and with his head bowed he obeyed, telling himself that if he acted out in front of the vicious priest that he'd still meet his death this day. Barking laughter rang in the air and died out as he loped across the yard; disappearing from sight as the land dipped down. The two blondes embraced, small smiles on their faces as if they shared some big secret yet couldn't speak it aloud because of Matthew's presence. The dark haired man fidgeted, wanting to see his brother as soon as possible but not wanting to speak out of turn and be rewarded with a sound slap across the face.
"Adam, how fairs Jeffrey?" Christopher asked when they pulled apart; his hands resting on Adam's shoulders and causing a rather heated surge to pump through Matthew's veins.
"He's resting peacefully, come, he's in my quarters."
Christopher nodded and called for Matthew to follow; not bothering to turn around and acknowledge him. Adam's hall was very similar to Christophers although while Christopher had stone walls separating the rooms Adam had plain furs hung with benches lining the small alcoves instead of pallets like Christopher. At the end of a hall was a large wooden door and Adam pass through first, holding it open for Christopher and Matthew to walk through. The room was sparsely furnished, a hay stuffed mattress taking up a large portion of the area with a couple of sturdy looking rocking chair's sitting by the hearth. Matthew broke away from the two blondes and hurried over when he seen his brother sitting in one swathed in a fur with it pulled up around his ears. A cough racked his body and Matthew lightly touched him on the shoulder; worried that the priest's presence had been an ill omen.
As the brothers quietly talked Adam and Christopher left the room, neither man wanting to eavesdrop on something that they had no right doing. A buxom young blonde met them in the hall and smiled flirtatiously at Adam, dropping down in a deep curtsey before going on about her business. They talked in low tones as they moved out into the main hall; taking up seats on the raised dais that sat at one end of the hall.
"If I had known that Glen was here I would have waited until later to bring Matthew over to see his brother." Christopher said as he dropped his eyes to his tankard of ale that was clutched tightly in his hand.
"It is of no consequence Chris, he was here merely to check on Jeffrey; after all he is favored by their gods so he must keep a close eye on him." Adam looked down, shifting his tankard from hand to hand before speaking again. "You were his favorite."
Christopher nodded, memories of nights spent writhing in pain as blood seeped from his body flashing vividly before his eyes. Hunter might have treated him with respect the few times that they had engaged in such activities but he never begrudged his fellow Vikings from having their fun. Of all the thralls at that time he and Adam had been the most sought after; although for some reason they seen him as one that could weather more punishment than the taller, willowy blonde. With a forced smile he forced those memories back to the corner of his mind, willing them to stay put until the evening where the drink unlocked them once more and allowed him scream and curse them to the deepest parts of hell where they belonged. They fell quiet, each one once more thinking about a time not long ago that forever seemed to have happened just the day before.
Back in the master chamber Matthew sat at his brothers' feet, listening to him talk as though they had been parted for weeks instead of just a day. His voice was breathy and Matthew feared that the cold had settled into his chest and wouldn't leave until Jeffrey was as cold as the wind that blew at night. A coughing spasm wracked the young man's body and Matthew got up and leaned Jeffrey forwards, rubbing his hands up and down his spine; biting his lip in worry. As if Jeffrey could see his face he reached up and placed a hand on top of Matthew's when his strong hands were at his shoulders.
"What's the matter Matt? There's something troubling your mind other than this silly cough of mine."
Matthew moved back around and took his seat back at his brothers' feet, surprised at how observant he was even though his eyes were dulled by the sickness raging through his veins. Matthew dropped his eyes, his face turning red as he tried to think of a way to tell Jeffrey what had happened and how it started back on the boat and was flamed by an innocent touch of the lips. Jeffrey coughed again, a hollow sound ringing in the room and sounding eerily like a death knell.
"Jeff…." Matthew started, his throat closing around the words that he wanted to get off his chest before they strangled him. "I-I—"
"Matt, you're not really thinking of taking your master's life are you?" Jeffrey asked lowly, his fever glazed eyes darting to and fro.
"No Jeffrey, so far he's been ok. Nothing like Hunter with his off the wall demands and rules." Matthew said, a small smile kicking up the corners of his lips.
"Tell me about him Matty," The childish nickname was drowned out by another cough that no longer sounded hollow but sounded as if his brother had a mouth full of water.
"Where's your bed Jeff?"
"Adam's been letting me sleep in his bed, says that since this room has a hearth it'll help me get over this plague that has descended upon me."
Matthew helped his brother to his feet and steadied him as they walked the short distance; Jeffrey swaddled in a heavy like an elderly man. At the bed he helped Jeffrey lay down and pulled the cotton and furs up to his chin before taking a seat next to him, pulling Jeffrey over so that his head was lying in his lap. Gently; like he used to do when they were younger and Jeffrey would sneak into his bed after a bad dream, Matthew started to stroke his hair, his fingers massaging as he moved from the forehead to the base of his neck.
"I don't know what to say Jeffrey. He's soft spoken, not at all like how he was out in the fields. Yesterday when Adam brought you here he promised me that I could come see you when ever I wanted, so I guess you could call him kind." Matthew furrowed his brow as he thought back to the scene that he had witnessed between Christopher and the priest. "But I get the feeling that he's hiding something, that there's more to him than he lets show. His eyes show more hurt than I've ever seen, yet he works hard to conceal it." Soft breathing reached his ears and Matthew looked down; smiling when he seen Jeffrey had fallen asleep, his hand fisted in his tunic to keep him from leaving. "And he has the softest lips I've ever felt." He added quietly.
In the quiet the fire crackled loudly and Matthew stared into the brilliant flames; his mind wandering as he tried to sort out how he felt about his master and why he couldn't bring himself to hate him the same way he hated Hunter and the others. He started to grow drowsy and yawned, chastising himself for the insipid thoughts. As his lids closed slowly over his eyes he vowed that he was going to put as much distance between him and Christopher; if only for his own peace of mind.