'Awesomeness': The title of this chapter should easily give away my favourite series of books. :)
Garth was warm, sated. He was on his side in a soft bed, his eyes closed against the sunny room. Sweet nothings were whispered into his ear as a hand travelled from his shoulder to his hip, as though mapping out every curve and scar of his body with wonder.
Garth mumbled something incoherent and rolled over to give his partner a kiss, and promptly awoke with a pained cry as he put his weight on his injured back.
Oh, right.
He groaned as he rolled back onto his stomach, remembering where he was. The inn in Rookridge. Of course, the Spire Guards…
The bedroom door was flung open and a moment later Garth was roughly rolled onto his side. He found himself blinking up at Reaver's ashen face. Reaver's concerned expression turned into one of annoyance as he huffed, turning on his heel and leaving the room again with a roll of his eyes. The door clicked shut behind him.
Garth sunk back into the pillows. He could barely remember their flight to the inn. He could recall lobbing several Fireballs over Reaver's shoulder as the Thief carried him, though at what he honestly didn't know. He also remembered stopping to fend off a group of Hobbes that were trying to follow Sparrow, probably in order to drag his injured daughter away. He also knew he had been stripped and his back sewn up, though whether he actually remembered the doctor doing it, or whether the images in his mind were simply conjured up by his imagination, he couldn't say.
Oh, that poor little child. Garth squeezed his eyes shut tightly, willing the image of the girl crumpling as she was shot, the sound of Sparrow's scream for his daughter, to leave his memory forever. But still it lingered, replaying over and over in his head as though it were taunting him.
The door opened and Reaver entered again, this time carrying a tray laden with food. He was disconcertingly sombre as he placed it on the small desk against the wall. He waited for Garth to slowly roll over and push himself up into a sitting position before handing him a bottle of water. Garth took it, drinking gratefully.
"The girl will live," Reaver said finally, and his voice sounded hoarse, as though someone had taken a grater to his throat. The mug he picked up was steaming, and Garth guessed the warmth helped his throat. Reaver drank before continuing. "Though her recovery will be long. And I doubt she'll ever recover mentally."
"Sad, but true." Garth muttered. He craned his neck to see out of the inn's tiny window. The sun was rising; he had slept the night through. "Where is she now?"
"Sparrow took her. I don't know where." Reaver sat down on the bed opposite and cleared his throat, though it did little good for the hoarseness. Garth blinked, he hadn't realised he and Reaver shared a room, though it made sense. "Probably back to her mother, if I had to guess."
Garth nodded and returned his gaze to the window. He paused, realising in shock that the sun was not rising, but setting. He had slept through the night and the following day. Unsurprising, he supposed; he and Hammer had gone without sleep to get to Rookridge. Garth had stayed awake for over 24 hours in order to get to Reaver as quickly as possible.
"You sound awful," he said to Reaver. He chuckled when Reaver scowled.
"I had acid poured down my throat, thank you." he said curtly.
Garth shook his head. "If it had been acid, your stomach would have been burned, too." he said. Reaver gave him a deadpan look.
"If you must know, I was vomiting throughout the entire night last night." he said flatly. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You were fortunate enough to remain unconscious throughout the entire thing."
"Charming." Garth muttered. He eyed the food on the tray as his stomach rumbled, reminding him how long it had been since he had last eaten. He moved slowly, pain shooting up his spine as he stepped out of bed, but he ignored it as he padded over to the little table housing the food tray. He picked one of the shiny apples and bit into it, relishing its sweet taste. He heard Reaver chuckle mirthlessly.
"Ah, dear Mage." Reaver was looking at him with a strange expression. Garth stared at him in shock when he realised it was pity. "Hammer told me all about your little romp with the Spire Guards. It's almost as if you enjoy being their punching bag, you know."
Garth scowled, wondering why he had ever expected gratitude from this arrogant arse. "Next time, I'll leave you there." he said flatly.
Reaver chuckled again. It was a horrible, empty sound that sent chills down Garth's spine. "Might I remind you whose fault it was that I was even there?" he said unkindly, and Garth flinched. Reaver's expression softened. "Don't get me wrong, Mage, I'm rather glad you did come after me. I just don't understand why."
"It's because I-" Garth began, ready to confess his feelings, but Reaver cut him off.
"Oh, no, I understand that." he said quickly, and he sounded panicky. Garth realised that, though he knew, he didn't want to hear Garth say it. Reaver was a curious man, powerful and confident, and yet so utterly fragile once the walls he had built around himself were broken down. "But that reason is what I don't understand. And I don't want to."
Garth had to sit down. The pain in his back was becoming unbearable. "You don't consider that running away?" he asked when he was settled.
Reaver gave him a sharp look. "Perhaps it is." he spat. "But remember, Mage: every time I've asked you about Lucien, you've given answers so vapid that steam appeared solid in comparison. Are you really in a position to judge?"
Garth flushed furiously, scowling. "You're impossible," he growled. Reaver laughed, that same hollow sound that made Garth feel as though a cold hand had been wrapped around his heart.
"Yes. It's part of my charm, or so I'm told." He leaned against the wall, his legs stretched out across his bed. He eyed Garth as he nursed his drink, his expression unreadable. Garth returned his gaze evenly, almost mimicking the way he nursed his water. Finally, Reaver spoke.
"You know, Mage, I know what it's like."
Garth stared at him. "You know what what's like?" he asked coldly.
"To be raped," Reaver said simply, and Garth's expression changed into one of shock. "It's why I abhor it so. Oh, don't look so surprised." he scoffed, once he noticed Garth's expression. "Did you think I became pirate king overnight? I had to work my way to the top, to hone my already fine skills to ensure I remained unchallenged once I reached my goal. Back then, those ill-educated thugs would do all sorts of things to newcomers, claiming it all to be part of some sick initiation ritual."
"That's disgusting," Garth muttered before he could stop himself.
"Of course it is. I took particular umbrage to the practice as I've always considered sex to be one of the highest forms of pleasure. It is certainly not a weapon." Reaver frowned. He didn't seem to be looking at Garth anymore; rather, he was staring off into space, lost in his memories. "Needless to say, I abolished the practice with an iron fist once I took 'office', shall we call it. Oh, and I also killed my assaulters." He grinned savagely, a sadistic gleam in his eye. "I gave them an hour to hide. Then I hunted them. It took me days to find one of them, but I got them all in the end."
Garth pressed his cheek to the cold stone wall of the inn, cooling his face. "I had no idea," he said lowly. Reaver shrugged and took another swig of his drink. He cleared his throat again to little avail. It was clearly paining him. Garth sighed.
"You seemed to take particular umbrage at the girl getting shot, too." he pointed out finally. Reaver raised an eyebrow.
"I have little tolerance for fools," he said flatly. "However, children, by their very nature, are foolish. They've yet to learn otherwise. That's what makes them children."
"Where you say foolish, I say naïve," Garth said. Reaver shrugged.
"Regardless, I don't kill children. And if I don't kill children, nobody should."
In spite of everything, Garth chuckled. "Your actions dictate what others should do, do they?" he teased. Reaver grinned and lifted his chin, his exaggerated air of arrogance back.
"But of course." He stood. Garth watched curiously as the Thief made his way over to his bed, plonking himself down beside Garth. He leaned forward, whispering in Garth's ear. "By the way, Mage, don't think I've forgotten that little quip you made in the Temple."
Garth's heart skipped a beat. He knew that look in Reaver's eyes, knew what it promised. "Little quip?" he asked, clueless. Reaver's hot breath ghosting over his ear was distracting too much, he couldn't think straight.
Reaver chuckled lowly. He knew the effect he had on Garth. "About my voice, dear Mage, don't tell me you've forgotten." Garth gasped as Reaver nipped his ear. "You claimed I was far more pleasant when I couldn't talk."
"I did not, Hammer did!" Garth protested breathlessly, shifting to get away from this maddening man. Reaver simply followed him.
"And you agreed with her." Reaver reminded him. "And you will pay for it." His arms encircled Garth's waist and Garth was pulled into his lap. His back was pressed gently up against Reaver's torso and Garth tried to look over his shoulder at the man, but it was proving difficult.
"Enough of this," Garth hissed, his breath hitching as Reaver pressed open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck. "We're not at home. Someone could walk in at any moment."
Reaver chuckled lowly. "That's what makes it more fun," he murmured. Even with his hoarse throat, his voice was still husky, and it ignited a fire within Garth that only Reaver could put out. He moaned softly as Reaver's hands ran across his bare torso, squirmed as Reaver ran his mouth over Garth's shoulder. Reaver traced a Will scar with the tip of his tongue and Garth gasped as it tingled.
"You like that." Reaver sounded faintly amused. One of his hands travelled down Garth's chest - oh, had Garth ever felt such desperation for another's touch? - and he none-too-gently squeezed Garth's arousal through his trousers, causing the Mage to groan loudly. "You like that, too. I've always said that a bit of pain can add ample amounts of pleasure, if done right." He squeezed again, gently this time, and began to unlace Garth's trousers. "Your back, is it bothering you?" he whispered into Garth's ear.
"No," Garth breathed. Truth be told, he had forgotten all about his injury. Hell, he had almost forgotten where they were. Almost. "We have no protection," he pointed out.
"No matter. We can have sex without penetration." Reaver sounded nonchalant. "Have you any more objections, or may I continue to tease you? You make the most delightful sounds when you're desperate."
Garth couldn't stifle his gasp as Reaver's hand slipped into his loosened trousers. Reaver all but ignored his erection, instead moving down to fondle his balls, his touches alternating between soft and rough. He soon had Garth squirming.
"Here," he whispered, and he pushed two of his fingers into Garth's mouth. His right hand, Garth realised dimly as he swirled his tongue around the digits distractedly, not really understanding the point as Reaver had already stated that they weren't going to fuck, but not really caring about that anyway.
The hand in his trousers retreated, and Garth protested the loss of sensation. There was a small movement behind him - Garth felt Reaver's hand bump into the small of his back - and the hand returned to his trousers, this time wrapping itself around Garth's erection. Reaver whispered into Garth's ear again, "Can you reach your hand behind your back?" and Garth realised that the Thief had freed his own erection from his trousers.
Garth tried. His back stung slightly in protest as he twisted, but he could easily ignore it. He grasped Reaver's erection blindly, giving it a few awkward strokes. Reaver chuckled.
"You can't come until I do," he whispered wickedly. "You can't turn around, either." Garth shuddered pleasantly at the hot breath at his neck. He tried to stroke Reaver fluidly, but the angle proved too difficult.
"It's hard," he complained around the fingers in his mouth.
"Of course it is," Reaver chuckled. "I would be worried if it wasn't, given what I have in my lap." Garth flushed brightly then moaned loudly as Reaver gave him a particularly hard stroke. Then the fingers in his mouth were removed, the hand replacing the one in his trousers. The other hand splayed across Garth's chest, holding him in place.
"Relax now," Reaver murmured, and the wet digits slipped past Garth's erection, past his balls, and began to push slowly into his entrance. Garth gasped.
"You said we weren't-" he hissed, only to have Reaver cut him off.
"My fingers don't need protection!" he sounded slightly irritable now. "Relax, damn you, so that you actually enjoy it! There's no point in teasing you if you're hating it."
Garth chuckled and took a deep, shuddering breath, willing his body to relax. Reaver pressed comforting kisses to his shoulder blade, a sharp contrast to the rough nips he'd been receiving before. Soon enough, Reaver was able to add a second finger and push deeper, slowly, his thumb stroking Garth's balls idly. He curled his fingers up, hitting that spot deep within Garth, and Garth was unable to suppress his loud moan of pleasure. Reaver chuckled.
"There it is," he mused. "It's different at this angle." He pulled out momentarily to remove Garth's trousers completely, as gently as he could. Garth protested weakly - after all, Reaver was still clothed - but Reaver only laughed at him.
"I believe you were doing something," he said pointedly, and Garth reached his hand back around his back - when had he removed it? - and began stroking Reaver as best he could again. Reaver gave a soft moan of satisfaction and pushed his fingers back into Garth. It didn't take him long to find that spot that had Garth crying out in ecstasy again.
"That's what I like to hear," Reaver said mildly. Garth moaned loudly as Reaver struck that spot again. "The quiet ones always make the most noise, or so I've found. But if you keep on like this, the entire inn will know what I'm doing to you."
Garth flushed furiously, realising that some of his cries had probably already been heard, but then let out another one involuntarily as Reaver struck that spot again.
"You'll need to be quiet if you want to remain discreet. Can you do that?" Reaver laughed as Garth's loud moan answered him. "I suppose not. You'll thank me for this." He covered Garth's mouth with his free hand, effectively stifling his cries.
Normally, Garth would have panicked. But Reaver was pressing chaste, soothing kisses to his shoulder blade again, whispering things like calm down and I won't hurt you in between. He squirmed, wanting Reaver to move his fingers again, and Reaver gladly obliged.
Garth hadn't forgotten Reaver's little rule. He bent his other arm behind his back. He held Reaver's erection in place with one hand, and with the other he massaged and pinched the tip. His clumsy movements were rewarded with breathy moans, and he chuckled proudly.
"Clever, aren't you," Reaver growled. "Let's see if you can sustain it." He thrust his fingers up forcefully, and Garth dropped his head back on Reaver's shoulder, his moans muffled by Reaver's hand. He glanced at Reaver's face. The Thief's cheeks were flushed and his breathing hitched. A faint sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and Garth wondered briefly if his throat was bothering him. He forgot about it with the next thrust.
Reaver suddenly shifted so that they were facing the door, and Garth glanced at him questioningly. They were in full view, if someone walked in now, little would be left to the imagination. And with his hands behind his back, mouth covered and legs spread… Garth flushed deeply in humiliation as he realised he looked more like a whore than a scholar or a Will Hero. But Reaver's next words drove all thoughts of shame from his mind.
"Let them walk in," the Thief hissed emphatically into his ear. "I want them to see what they can't have." He ran his tongue along the outer shell of Garth's ear, his fingers thrusting as quickly as possible.
Garth moaned. He was so close, and yet Reaver wasn't even near the edge yet. He had to do something, or he would be in for hours of discomfort as he tried to jack off the Thief this way.
He paused, an idea coming to him. So Reaver liked a bit of pain, did he? He navigated his hand down Reaver's shaft desperately, pausing when his fingertips brushed against the Thief's balls. He concentrated furiously, and for one fleeting moment he was able to block out everything as he performed the smallest of Shock spells.
Barely more than a zap, it elicited strangled cries of pleasure from Reaver, his injured throat preventing them from getting any louder than conversational volume. Garth stroked him roughly a few more times before using the spell again, and Reaver climaxed with a shuddering gasp.
"C-Clever," he panted, a stunned note in his voice. "We'll have to discuss exactly what spells you can do, later. But for now, let's focus on our deal." He thrust deep and hard, and Garth's body trembled as heat began to pool at the pit of his stomach.
"You may come now," Reaver whispered, and he suddenly chuckled smugly. "My Mage."
That bastard, Garth thought furiously, even as the heat burst forth and he orgasmed, spilling himself over Reaver's waiting hand. Reaver uncovered Garth's mouth and they sat still for a few moments to regain their breaths. Garth flinched when he realised how hoarse Reaver's pants were.
"Why am I so warm?" Reaver complained.
"You're still clothed," Garth pointed out.
"I knew that." Reaver shifted Garth carefully from his lap and stood, making his way over to the bedroom's small cupboard. After a moment he pulled out a small, brown towel.
"I wonder if this is its original colour," he commented, and Garth wrinkled his nose distastefully. Reaver cleaned himself off before bringing it over to Garth. "Your back is bleeding a little." he said.
"Wonderful," Garth muttered. Now that he was coming down from his high, his back was starting to hurt, too. He took the towel and cleaned himself off, and then lay down on his stomach without bothering to get dressed. Reaver glanced at him before stripping off his clothing.
"It's only spotting. It probably would have done that anyway." He flopped down beside Garth, his hand draped over his eyes to block out light. Even taking into consideration what he had just been doing, his cheeks looked unhealthily pink.
"Are you feeling all right?" Garth asked.
"Just tired," Reaver muttered, and Garth knew he was lying. He was sick, from either his infected throat or from the stuff he drank for it. "Where's that apple you had?"
He was only trying to distract Garth from his condition. Unfortunately, it worked. Garth glanced around the bed, blinking. "I don't know." he said at length.
"How do you lose an apple?" Reaver scoffed. Garth scowled at him.
"It's your fault, you distracted me."
"You were sitting there half-naked. You tempted me."
"What I was or wasn't wearing is hardly the point." he said, unable to keep himself from chuckling now. Reaver grinned and lifted his hand away from his eyes, and cracked one open to meet Garth's gaze. He really did look feverish, and a wave of guilt swept over Garth. He gnawed at his bottom lip.
"You were taken because of me," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
Reaver frowned disapprovingly at him, surprised, before he relaxed and smiled again.
"Oh, anytime, Mage." he replied lightly. "My chances at surviving with them for so long are far greater than yours, after all. It was a refreshing change to sit back and play the damsel in distress for once." When Garth shook his head, not meeting Reaver's eye, Reaver gave a long-suffering sigh. "You are the dumbest smart person I've ever met. You'd shoulder the entire world's problems if you could."
Garth glanced at him in surprise, but was spared answering by a knock at the door. Garth gave them permission to enter and the door opened, revealing Hammer, bleary-eyed but healthy.
"Ah, Garth! You're awa- Oh goddamn it you two, clothes, please!" Hammer's relieved tone quickly turned to embarrassment and exasperation as she caught sight of the two naked men on the bed. She looked away, blushing brightly.
Garth blushed too, even as Reaver chuckled and pulled the bed sheet up over them. He had forgotten that they were naked. He was so used to lying naked in bed with Reaver that he thought nothing of it now. At least he was lying on his stomach, he supposed; unlike Reaver, who had been unabashedly displaying everything to the world.
"Will that do?" Reaver asked shortly. Hammer glanced at them and nodded, though her cheeks were still red.
"You sound better than yesterday," she said to him, probably in an effort to distract herself. Reaver chuckled darkly.
"Much better. The Mage has seen to that."
"Oh, I'm going to have nightmares about this!" Hammer wailed.
"They aren't nightmares if you enjoy them, dear."
"No. Just no. Garth-" she turned her attention from Reaver, the irritation on her face softening as she looked at Garth. "How are you feeling? How's your back?"
Garth propped his head up on his hand. "Well enough, what about you?"
Hammer scoffed. "I'm fine." she said flatly. She turned back to Reaver. "Have you asked him about that book yet?"
"Book?" Garth asked quizzically, as Reaver replied, "Ah, no." Garth looked at him with a quirked eyebrow and he grinned sheepishly.
"The fools kept asking me if you had in your possession a book for which they were searching," he explained. "I must have told them a hundred times that you didn't have it, but they refused to believe me. And to think, I was actually telling the truth for once…"
"Do I have to guess this book's name, or are you going to tell me?" Garth broke in irritably. Reaver chuckled.
"That would be fun, but no." He frowned thoughtfully. "It had an odd name. I'd certainly never heard of it before. Nommy Norman, or something equally ridiculous."
"You said it was Norman's Con!" Hammer protested accusingly. Reaver shrugged.
"As I said, it was a stupid name and I'd never heard of the blasted thing before. Does it ring any bells, Mage?"
Garth snorted. Nommy Norman? Norman's Con? What sort of rubbish was thi-
He froze, a terrible thought occurring to him. Surely they couldn't be searching for…
"Was it the Normanomicon?" he asked weakly.
"Yes, I believe it was." Reaver replied after a moment. "Your expression looks promising. What's this book, then?"
"It's a powerful spell book," Garth muttered. "It contains only the dark arts. Translated, its name is Book of the Extremely Dead."
Silence followed his explanation. Then Reaver chuckled sardonically.
"Oh, that sounds charming."
"You're saying this book can raise the dead?" Hammer gasped. "But why- I mean, they've been trying to kill you! Why would they do that if they're gonna bring back Lucien?"
The thought made Garth sick. Even in death, the man refused to leave him alone. Oh, how he regretted ever stepping foot into that fucking castle in the first place.
"Perhaps we were wrong. Perhaps they've simply been trying to incapacitate Sparrow and I so that they can easily hand us over to Lucien." He rested his head against the pillow, wishing once again that he had stayed in Samarkand. He had been treated as a foreigner there - after all, he had spent most of his life in Albion - but at least he had been safe. At least he had been away from Lucien and his memories.
"And as soon as Lucien pops his little undead head up, we'll be in the shit." Reaver said to Hammer. Garth glanced at him, realising how stressed he was. His ill-health was probably adding to that stress. "Wonderful. So I suppose we should run this whole blasted thing by Sparrow before we decide what to do. Where is he, anyway?"
Hammer shrugged. "He said he was taking his family into hiding. I 'spose it wouldn't be hiding if I knew where they were." she said flatly, though Garth could see how much Sparrow's refusal to confide in her hurt her. "He took Keiran and Elisabeth too. He said he'd meet us in Oakfield in about a week, which is what I came in here to tell you originally." She glanced at Reaver. "A coach stops at the coach house up the road every day at midday. If you want one before that you've gotta pay extra. It's that or we can walk."
Reaver hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose we can wait until tomorrow," he said, glancing at Garth as he spoke. "I'm rather enjoying using this region's Hobbes as target practice."
Hammer snorted. "You were vomiting on them the other night," she said bluntly, and Garth blinked.
"You were what?" he asked Reaver, amused. Reaver shrugged as Hammer roared with laughter.
"He spent the first night we were here with his head over the side of the cliff," she explained, grinning. "Didn't seem to care that there were buckets up here he could use in safety. When I asked him why, he said he was aiming for any Hobbes that might be on the riverbank at the bottom."
"I would have hit any that were down there," Reaver said confidently. "I never miss, after all."
In spite of everything, Garth laughed, very glad that both Reaver and Hammer were here with him. If he had thought them amusing when they didn't get along, they were ten times more so - and much more likable - when they did.
**
The next day they piled themselves into the coach, eager to arrive home. Garth propped himself in the corner, using a pillow that Hammer had nicked from the inn to cushion his back. Reaver slid into place beside him, looking much better than he had the previous day, though his voice was still hoarse, and Hammer sat on the cushioned bench opposite them.
Garth hadn't slept well; his injured back hadn't allowed it. He dozed lazily as he listened to Reaver and Hammer chat, content with not joining in. He knew they didn't particularly like each other all that much, so he was grateful that they were being cordial, at least for the moment.
"Rid this region of its Hobbes and it would be habitable," Reaver was saying simply.
Hammer snorted. "That's like saying all of Westcliff would be habitable if you just got rid of the balverines," she scoffed. "Sounds easy enough, but it would take a long time to exterminate them forever."
"Luckily, I have a long time," Reaver chuckled. "I'm well aware of the size of the task. It would make a lot of money."
"It would take a lot of money, too."
Garth began to drift off to sleep, finally getting comfortable. He glanced down lazily as Reaver rested his head in his lap, his body stretched out across the bench.
"If you get a pillow, I get a pillow," Reaver said flatly, catching his eye. "So now we all have pillows. Except for Hammer, who must ride in discomfort."
"Will you be as comfortable when I break your legs, I wonder?"
"Probably not, but at least I'll still have a pillow."
Garth began to laugh as Reaver grinned up at him.
"He thinks we're funny." he said to Hammer.
"Of course he does, he's a bloody loon." was Hammer's fond reply.
Garth chuckled and started to drift off again, slowly, ignoring the chatter around him until…
"Do you think he would look any good in a dress?"
"Who, Garth? Nah, he hasn't got the figure for it. You'd look better."
"I look good in anything though."
Perhaps it wasn't such a good thing that they were getting along, after all.