Chapter Twelve

"What in the hell are you doing out of bed?" Cecil demanded, slamming down his tankard and stalking over to Tallant, abandoning the table where he had been eating lunch with Milton and Irene. Tallant smiled briefly at the image they had made, the duchess, her duke, and their brother enjoying a quiet meal in their castle. In the two months since Irene's father had died, and Tallant had somehow managed to restore the wards, life in the castle had been improving by leaps and bounds.

Or so Tallant had been told, whenever someone wandered into his room to visit. Beyond that, he had nothing but a little window. He was going to go insane, and not because he'd messed with magic over his head. Boredom was infinitely more dangerous than magic, he'd decided. He was sick of being stuck in that damned bed, with nothing but books and conversation. Granted, he loved it when Cecil came to talk to him, and they could talk for hours upon hours, and when he managed to get Cecil to lie or sit next to him in bed—

But he wanted to do more than sit or lie still, and it he could not do dirty, delightful things with Cecil in bed, the he was not going to stay in bed for one more minute. "I'm sick of being stuck in bed," he said as Cecil reached him. "It's been two very long, very boring months. I'm fine. Look—I'm standing. I dressed myself. I'm walking. I'm fine."

"Don't pout, and don't be petulant," Cecil snapped. "You still can't even use magic! And you're pale!" He whipped around to glare at Milton and Irene, who were doing a very poor job of hiding their amusement.

Tallant did not bother to point out that if he was pale, it was because he'd been in bed for two months. "Kel, I'm fine," he said instead. "I'm sick unto death of being in bed. My magic will return, I can already feel the beginnings of it. Another couple of weeks and I'll be back to full strength. Surely sitting at a table is no more difficult than sitting in bed? Please, Kel?"

Cecil flushed, still disconcerted even after two months at the way Tallant called him that. "Fine," he bit out. "Sit—but you had better not strain—" Tallant smiled into the kiss, catching Cecil's hands when Cecil tried to hit him and shove him back. Two whole months, he'd had Cecil close, had Cecil growing increasingly comfortable with him, opening more to him—and nothing more than short, brief kisses, the barest of touches, because Cecil was a dragon of a caretaker.

Now that he was rebelling against bed rest, he had every intention of getting more than kisses. He finally broke the kiss, and grinned at Cecil's furious face. "See? I'm in perfect health."

"You won't be if you do not stop all this nonsense!" Cecil snapped, stepping well out of reach.

"Yes, Kel," Tallant replied, and walked to the table with him, sitting down next to Cecil, across from Milton and Irene. "Hello, Your Graces," he said cheerfully. "How does the day find you?"

"Amused," Milton said dryly, and motioned to a servant to bring more food and drink, as Tallant stole Cecil's cider and plate. "You stayed in bed longer than I thought you would. Given your history, I figured a week was the best you'd do, even with my brother making eyes at you." He grunted as Cecil kicked him under the table.

Tallant laughed. "And you, fair lady?"

"Equally amused," Irene said with a laugh. "I am glad you are feeling better. You had us truly worried for a time. That really was a stupid thing for you to do, especially given what the magic did to my poor father. Milton would not stop fretting those first two weeks, and you can see that there has been no living with Cecil. My family will always be in your debt."

"Simply allow me to leave my bed, and eat real food again, Your Grace, and we will call it even," Tallant replied.

"But—" Cecil started to protest, but stopped when Tallant kissed him. "Stop doing that just because you don't like—" He thumped Tallant hard on the shoulder when he did it again. "Stop it!"

Tallant grinned. "If you feel free to abuse me, Kel, then I must be in excellent health once more. Maybe we'll test my strength tonight," he added, winking.

"Don't count on it," Cecil snapped, then rose and stormed off.

Sighing, Tallant drank more cider. "He could be happy to see me up and about."

"He's been worried sick about you," Milton said. "It's hilarious."

Irene giggled. "I also think he's been just as eager as you for you to be better again, once he knew for certain you would get better." She winked.

"Reni!" Milton said, glaring at her.

Rolling her eyes, Irene drank her wine, muttering something about men and prudes. After a moment, she said, "He really does just want you better. I think he blames himself in part, which is silly, because you were stupid all by yourself with no help from anyone."

Tallant laughed and stood up. "I never did need help when it came to being stupid. I'll see you at supper, Majesties. If you'll pardon me, I need to go soothe some ruffled feathers." He walked slowly through the castle, simply enjoying being up and about, smiling and humming. It was good to feel completely like himself again. It was better still to finally be at a point he could go head to head with Cecil, instead of being impeded by the fact he couldn't leave his bed. Damn it, Cecil was his, and he wanted to be up and active and with Cecil. There was only so much he could do, trapped in one room.

He wanted Cecil to stop being anxious and fretful and guilty over the whole thing. The headaches were gone. The trembling was gone. Food was staying down, and he didn't wake up in a cold sweat anymore. He could move, walk, and in the past couple of days, he'd begun to feel the faint fluttering that his magic was on its way back. He was completely himself again.

Except that his wolf, his Kel, was still so tense.

Tallant walked through the chapel and out into the garden behind it. Cecil lay beneath the apple tree, exactly where Tallant had expected to find him. "I did not mean to anger you, Kel," he said, sitting down in front of Cecil.

Cecil did not look at him, only scowled at the grass.

Sighing softly, Tallant said, "Cecil, I'm fine. I'm sorry I was so reckless. I'm sorry I've worried you. Please, just say you'll let it go and let us move on. I'm nearly perfect, and in a couple of weeks when my magic comes back fully, I will be better than perfect. Next week is the wedding banquet. We should all be happy."

Cecil gave a terse nod, and then after another moment said, "You just—the screams were awful, and then you were so still and wouldn't wake up—and what if all that stupid talk of fate you went on about was never about—" He faltered briefly. "About us and really you were just supposed to die—"

Tallant moved forward on all fours, bracing himself on his hands as he took a very thorough kiss. Hot satisfaction poured through him as Cecil made a rough, needy noise and kissed him back, sinking his hands into Tallant's hair. When they finally pulled apart, Tallant lapped and nibbled at Cecil's lips. "See? I am more than fine. But let me keep proving it to you."

Before Cecil could reply, Tallant undid the laces of Cecil's leggings, and pulled his cock out. He might be moving fast, but that was the best way to keep Cecil off balance, keep him from running again. Cecil gasped, cried out, face flushing dark red as he jerked, clearly trying to flee and move closer all at once. Tallant kissed him again, swallowing the surprised, needy noises, stroking and teasing Cecil's cock. Then, determined to stay one step ahead and give Cecil no time to think or act, he broke away from the kiss and replaced his hand with his mouth.

Cecil shouted, then clapped a hand over his mouth, jerking and writhing as Tallant worked him, fumbling with his hands, obviously not sure where to put them. Tallant would have laughed, charmed, but he was far too busy focusing on the task at hand. Two months of boredom and frustration had most definitely been worth this.

Hands landed awkwardly in his hair, Cecil's fingers gripping hesitantly at first, then more firmly, as Cecil's mind succumbed to his body, reducing him to panting, moaning, half-formed pleas spilling out and filling the garden. A moment later, Cecil came hard, hot and bitter in Tallant's mouth. Tallant did not relent until Cecil was completely spent, and pulled off his cock slowly. Sitting up, he took another long, if somewhat clumsy kiss from a thoroughly sated Cecil.

"You are not supposed to be exerting yourself," Cecil finally said, mumbling the words against Tallant's chest.

Tallant laughed and kissed the top of his head. "I am sick of not exerting myself, especially where you are concerned."

"Stupid elf," Cecil muttered, cheeks flushed as he finally glanced up. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Mm," Tallant agreed, but did not say that he would be better still if he were not so hard he hurt—but then he jerked, as hesitant fingers brushed over him. "You don't—"

Cecil ignored him, simply muttering, "Shut up," before he opened Tallant's leggings and wrapped his hand around Tallant's cock. The movements were slow, hesitant, inexperienced—but determined, and it was not very long at all before Tallant was muffling his cry in Cecil's mouth, shuddering in his arms.

"You are truly a kel," he said eventually. "My kel."

"I'm going to be telling you to shut up a lot, I'm beginning to realize," Cecil complained, but was obviously fighting a smile. His cheeks were hot as he righted their clothes—then he abruptly shoved, sending Tallant toppling over. Before he could voice a protest, Cecil was laying half on top of him, braids spilling all about, the fate token just touching Tallant's chest. For all that he was sick of lying around, Tallant could really find nothing to complain about in the situation, except perhaps that they were dressed.

"Do you know how to dance?" Cecil asked after several minutes, the words muffled against Tallant's chest.

It took Tallant a moment work them out, but then he said, "Yes, though I'm not certain the drunken antics in which Milton and I usually engaged could be called dancing, per se."

"There will be lots of dancing at the banquet," Cecil said. "I wasn't sure you'd be well enough—"

Tallant cut him off with a laugh. "I think I have proven I am well enough for dancing—and more."

Cecil didn't reply, but Tallant could practically feel the rolling of his eyes. He smiled, but did not say anything, simply closed his eyes and enjoyed lying with his lover beneath the apple tree.

Fin