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Sliding out, Lachland drove back in, then repeated each movement. When Caelan’s arms trembled, Lachland grabbed him by the hips and continued driving into him. The sound of their flesh slapping, the feel of Lachland’s sack on his upper thigh was more than he could withstand.
Caelan pushed back to meet Lachland’s thrusts, searching for the special place that when hit sent sensations like nothing he’d ever experienced through every inch of his body.
“More,” Caelan grunted out.
Lachland withdrew and over his shoulder, Caelan watched as he oiled his thick cock. The man was well endowed.
Lachland’s flat gaze met his as he took him by the hips and once again thrust into him. “Ye feel good. Tight.”
Each thrust was followed by another, faster and harder. Caelan wasn’t sure he could hold on to his release, his breathing now coming in gasps.
Just then Lachland reached around and took Caelan’s cock, sliding his oiled hand just twice before Caelan came with force.
“Now my turn,” Lachland said, pushing in deeper, withdrawing almost completely before once again delving.
Somehow the warrior managed to crest with barely a sound, only a low growl that vibrated through Caelan’s’ body.
Lachland withdrew and turned away. He walked a short distance to another tree and grabbing a cloth from his horse, cleaned himself.
Unsure what to do next, Caelan lifted his trews and belted them. When he turned to face Lachland, the man was already walking away in the direction of the guard camp.
His breathing sounded like gasps as he fought to regain normality. It was as if his entire body was aflame.
He wanted to be relieved to finally know what it was like to have his fantasy fulfilled. Already he wanted Lachland again. It had to happen again.
The path was empty now, only the light mist hovering, hiding the retreating warrior from his view.
Upon heading back to the guard camp, Caelan stopped after a few steps, the soreness something he’d expected, but now that it was very much real, a constant reminder of what had occurred.
Shoulders straight, with a flat expression, he walked to where a group of archers stood in line waiting to be fed. “We were just going to go look for ye,” one said.
His stomach clenched. “For what?”
“Ye are on patrol with Brock today,” he motioned to a stocky man who sat at a table eating.
“I did nae forget.”
Upon seating, he ensured not to fidget, purposely keeping his gaze away from where Lachland usually sat. Within moments, he lost the battle and glanced only to find that the warrior was in a deep conversation with one of the leaders. Lachland seemed at ease, one elbow on the table, listening intently to whatever was said.
Patrol that day was dull. There hadn’t been much activity to worry about since they’d fought and beat the abusive council in the nearby village.
Caelan dismounted at the creek, his partner, Brock, doing the same. The warrior looked to the sky. “I am going to ask permission to visit my family. My mother is ailing.”
The idea of not knowing how his own family fared made Caelan’s stomach clench. “I hope ye get to go.”
“Our duty is to patrol, not to stand around gossiping.” Lachland glowered in their direction from atop his horse. “If ye decide to stop, first ye let someone know. I had to come looking for ye.”
“We’ve only just now stopped,” Caelan’s companion replied.
“So ye say,” Lachland replied, his flat gaze meeting Caelan’s. “There is no room for lazy men in our ranks.”
Caelan’s hand clenched. “Go on yer way. Ye are not our leader. If anyone is lacking in their duties it is ye. This is our area.”
Before he could utter another word, Lachland dismounted and stalked to him stopping only when they were nose-to-nose. “Do not speak to me... boy.”
The man was goading him. If he thought him a weakling, he was about to be surprised. Caelan’s eyes narrowed. “Move back.”
“Or?” Lachland’s voice was a low growl
