A Stroke Of Midnight

I started to say no, then hesitated. It wasn’t my motive for the oral sex, but the last part was true enough, or had been.

“I want you like this because I want you,” I said.

Nicca spoke with his head still pillowed on my thigh. “I’ve seen her do this with more than just Mistral. She does seem to enjoy it.”

“Sage, you mean,” Galen said, but still didn’t sound happy. His face did what it almost always did: it showed his every emotion.

“Yes,” I said, and wasn’t sure what to do to reassure him. It wasn’t like Galen to pout this much. This was more Frost’s speed.

“Sage,” he said again, “another who won’t ever be your king.”

I sighed. “We have a night of ecstasy in front of us, and you’re spoiling it with hard questions, it’s not like you.”

“No, it’s more like Frost.”

He’d spoken exactly what I’d just finished thinking. He’d done that several times tonight.

He continued with, “You complain about his moods, but you seem to like him better and better. Maybe you like your men a little more complicated.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Why do you love one man and not another? Why is it that one person’s touch fills you with shivery heat, and the same touch from another leaves you cold? It is a mystery. But I could answer truthfully and still be comforting.

“I love you, Galen.”

He just looked at me.

“Maybe I had forgotten just how much, but today. . when I saw you lying there…” My voice failed me, and I had to close my eyes to keep from seeing him lying in a pool of his own blood.

Nicca stroked my thigh, not for sex but to comfort.

“When I saw you there, like that, I thought I would die from grief. To never see your smile again.” My eyes felt hot, and I couldn’t decide if crying would make me feel better or worse.

He touched my face, and without opening my eyes, I knew it was his hand. His warm, gentle hand. I laid my cheek into that hand. I was reminded sharply of doing the same thing to Doyle only a few hours ago. Galen had failed me then, had not understood why Gillette’s failing me had made me cry. But giving Galen into the hands of another woman who could give him his nights of gentle love was one thing; giving him up to death was another. That I could not bear.

I opened my eyes and gazed up at him. I met those green, green eyes.

“You’re crying,” he said, and the look on his face was one of wonderment.

“Not quite,” I said, but my voice sounded it. I had to swallow hard to say the next part. “Maybe I have been pulling back from you. I didn’t mean to.” I touched his hand with mine, kept it pressed against my face. “What terrified me about you being king was that our enemies would kill you. If I was picking men who could survive that kind of treachery, it wouldn’t be you, my gentle love.”

“Like Dormath thinking I would just forgive him for almost killing me.”

“Yes.”

“The last thing I thought, the very last thought, was you. I was afraid that it was the begi

“Not quite,” I whispered.

He looked at me then, and the smile was almost a real one. “How can I blame you for looking to them for your king, when as I lay dying, they were who I thought of, too? Damn it, being a good person is not enough here, not to help keep us alive. I’m sorry for that.”

“I thought it would endanger you more to be my king, Galen, but now I understand that they’re going to try to kill you anyway.” I spoke to the look on his face. “I didn’t know about the green man bringing life to the court until the queen said it, but they are still going to kill as many of my allies as they can. They will strip me of my help, if they dare. So if you’re in danger either way, then you might as well be king.”

“I’m dead either way,” he said, and the smile was back to being more sad.

I sat up, trying to hug him, but he moved away just a little. My movement forced Nicca to move from my thigh to the mound between my legs for his pillow. Not for sex, but gently, as a pillow for his cheek.

“Come to me, Galen, please.”

“I ca

“Will you give up your place in her bed?” Nicca asked, and his voice held the lilt of surprise.

“No,” Galen said, his voice as grim as the look in his eyes. “I’m not strong enough to give that up, not yet, not until I have to. But it does open things up.” He smiled with that somber look still clinging to his eyes, still making him look not like my Galen at all. “But I could take Nicca’s place, and kiss you with more than mouths.”

“You’ve done that before.”

“But never where you could return the favor,” he said.

“You will have other nights,” Nicca said. “Would you deny me my last moments with our Merry?”

“No, not if it’s what you want. I know if it were my last night with her, I’d want it exactly the way I wanted it.” He looked almost back to normal, but there was a glint in his eyes that didn’t go away, and that I was both relieved and sad to see.

“I want to bring her with my lips and tongue, then I want to see another man in her mouth. I want us both to fuck her, until we go inside her. That’s what I want.”

Galen nodded. “Okay.”

“I do not care which of you it is at her mouth, but if it is you, Galen, I have one request.”

Galen said, “Ask.”

“You are taller than Kitto. If you could come at her from the side, and not in front. You partially block my view of her breasts, and since it is my last night with the largest breasts in the entire court, I want to see them.”

“From the side it is,” Galen said.

“I’ll need my head propped up if we’re going to do it like that,” I said.

“We can mound the towels up,” Galen said.

“Let me be Merry’s pillow,” Kitto said. “Rest your head in my lap, Princess.”

The rest of us exchanged a glance, and the glance was enough. “Okay,” I said.

Kitto’s smile was bright, and so very happy. Such a small thing to cause him such pleasure.

Nicca moved his head back down my body, his hands encircling my thighs again. “Now, where were we?”

My mouth suddenly dry, I asked, “Isn’t Galen supposed to be up here?”

“I won’t last in your mouth if you’re screaming an orgasm around me. I just won’t. Let him bring you, then Kitto and I will go where Nicca wants us.”

I might have argued for Galen to come closer sooner, but Nicca’s mouth found me again, and his tongue and lips stole my words, stole my breath, and finally stole the world away. For a few precious moments, I forgot that we were in danger, that there was a throne to win, or that there was anything but Nicca’s mouth between my legs. His mouth and my body became pleasure, as if there were no skin, no bones, nothing solid, only the overwhelming shivering joy of orgasm.