Page 39 of The Warrior and the Monk

"No, I did not stop to make myself presentable," Osgood admitted, his voice low and teasing. "Our bed lies cold, and I have not had my mouth on you in days. I came straight here to collect you and bring you back to our home."

The words seemed to evaporate between them, and soon they were communicating in a mixture of growls and kisses. Wilder, standing awkwardly by, cleared his throat with as much discretion as he could muster. When the couple finally turned to face him, their eyes wide in surprise as though they had forgotten he was there, Wilder cleared his throat again, louder this time.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" he asked.

Kirk paused for a moment, his hand still resting on Osgood’s chest. "No," he said. "We should leave and see if our home is still standing. My siblings have been there far too long."

Osgood muttered something under his breath, his gaze fond but tired. "So long as there’s still a bed, I will be content."

It took some time for Kirk to gather his things, but once they were packed into the cart, Osgood lifted his trunk as though it weighed nothing. Kirk and Wilder split the remaining peas between themselves, and Wilder insisted on sending him off with a handful of eggs, some bread, and cheese for the journey.

"One week!" Kirk called from his seat on the cart. "You'd best prepare yourself for your wedding!"

Wilder smiled and turned to Anders, who was gazing at him with utter adoration. "I think I’ll make quite the sight!" Wilder said, his voice light.

Anders’s smile grew, and he looked at him as though Wilder were the most beautiful thing in the world.You will, he signed softly.They’ll see that I have the loveliest husband in the land.

???

To Wilder's dismay, Anders announced his intention first to bathe and then to get back to work. Their firewood was running low, and he wanted to expand the garden and needed to plow a new field, and the fish—did they need more fish? How was their larder in the few days that had passed? These were the things that Anders had worried about while he'd been away.

Wilder frowned. While Kirk and Osgood were busy enjoying themselves, his own husband wanted to busy himself with chores. "But Anders, you've been gone for days! Stay here with me and rest."

There is still work to be done. The firewood...

"Leave it for tomorrow," begged Wilder. "We'll work alongside each other like we always do. For now, let's rest."

Anders sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.As you will, he signed.Let me wash first.He gestured to the basin on warm water and turned away to undress.

But he still held tension in his shoulders. His brow was furrowed. His thoughts were obviously still on the hunt, and on the work that had to be done in the morning.

Kirk's advice tugged insistently at Wilder's thoughts. If you ever need to give him a bit of rest, just ride him. He'd assured Wilder that Anders wouldn't be able to resist it.

As his husband divested himself of his clothes, Wilder quickly grabbed a clean cloth and dipped it in the water. He paused to admire Anders's body. In the firelight he was especially lovely—built like a hero from a tale, with his powerfulback and his strong, broad shoulders, the muscle of his arms, the thickness of his thighs, the dark hair that covered his chest and trailed down his belly. Even his scars—of which Anders had been so embarrassed of, so ashamed—had a beauty to them, because they were marks of Anders's life, of healing, and Wilder loved to trace his fingers along his arms, his back, to gently kiss his the pale, white line across his neck and feel Anders's pulse against his lips. Wilder loved God, at times had loved the monastery, but neither had stirred the same passion in him as Anders did. Truly he had not known desire before Anders.

Quietly, he asked, "Anders? Let me wash your back for you?" He wrung out the cloth; water trickled back into the basin.

He received a grunt of affirmation in reply and Wilder thought, Yes, he is tired. "Come here and sit near the fire and warm yourself."

Anders sat, and Wilder knelt beside him with the basin and before he did anything else leaned close and sniffed him. Sweat, dirt, the wet dew of the forest, campfire smoke.

The hunt. I hadn't much time to bathe,Anders signed, his hands faltering self-consciously.

But Wilder shook his head. "I missed your smell."

With as much care as he had once illuminated manuscripts, Wilder wiped the sweat and grime from his husband's back. He pressed a little harder in the places where he felt knots, smoothing out the tension in Anders's back, and was rewarded with a deep, appreciative moan. Wilder dipped the cloth again, rubbed along the back of Anders's neck and shoulders, watching as rivulets of water ran down the length of his spine to the base of his tailbone. He thought it a very beautiful sight indeed. It was all very beautiful, to be together with Anders again, near the warmth of the fire in their longhouse.

In a fit of joy and longing, he kissed the nape of Anders's neck and wound his arms around him. "I was so worried about you."

Anders made a soft noise and covered Wilder's fingers with his own.

They stayed like that for a few long, sweet moments until Wilder pulled away and said, "Turn around and I'll get the rest of you clean."

He did not move easily or quickly and Wilder feared that Anders had some injury that he had not told him about, but then he saw that Anders was half-hard. Anders glanced at him and signed,Your touch, and then looked away, slightly abashed.

Wilder smiled, extremely pleased that the brush of his fingers could cause such a reaction. "Close your eyes," he said, and dabbed gently at Anders's face with the cloth before moving down to his throat and his chest. Anders's nipples hardened as Wilder rubbed at his pecs. Leaning forward, Wilder dropped the cloth entirely, pressing another kiss to Anders's neck while his fingers trailed below Anders's navel into the coarse hair of his belly and then lower still.

He took Anders's cock in his hand and stroked it, slowly, to fullness. Wilder marveled at how right it felt, to have his husband's cock in his hand, how hot it was, how heavy in his grip, how Anders leaned against him and shuddered, panting, as Wilder squeezed his length and rubbed the head with his thumb. For a time he teased Anders with his fingers and then he pulled away. "Go and lie down in bed," he murmured.

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