Page 60 of Too Many Beds

Bedchambers and Broomsticks

Amy Campbell

“Marek,” Arcanus whispered. Honestly, it was almost a whimper, simply because of the way Marek traced kisses up his neck to just beneath his ear. Arcanus wanted nothing more than to give in to that embrace, but… “We shouldn’t—the competition?—”

Marek silenced him with a searing kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Arcanus's mouth. “Forget the competition,” he growled against Arcanus's lips. “Right now, all that matters is you and me.”

“But you—” Arcanus tried again.

“Us,” Marek corrected. Which didn’t make sense, given what Arcanus was going to say, but the wizard let it go. Mostly because of the way the woodworker’s powerful hands were roaming over his body, though Arcanus’s robes got in the way.

“Let me disrobe,” Arcanus suggested, though he hated even those brief moments that robbed him of contact with Marek. He tossed the robe aside, aiming for the decorative bed knob shaped like a dragon’s head. But he missed, and it pooled to the floor. That was fine. It was out of the way.

Marek's calloused hands moved with a determination that made Arcanus shiver. They skimmed over Arcanus's chest,pausing at the delicate curve of his ribs, then traced the length of his arm, sending a jolt of fire through him. He leaned into the touch. Arcanus closed his eyes, the world narrowing to just Marek's presence. He inhaled the scent of pine and sweat that clung to the woodworker, a heady mixture that quickened his pulse. A low groan escaped Arcanus as Marek traced the outline of Arcanus's ribs.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Marek freed himself from his own shirt, the fabric falling to the floor like a discarded shadow. His exposed chest revealed a landscape of muscle and sculpted lines covered by a thick dusting of dark hair. Arcanus's gaze lingered on Marek's chest, tracing the path of the hair as it flowed downward, disappearing beneath his waistband. He reached out, his fingers trailing over the springy curls.

“You're beautiful,” Arcanus whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

Marek, his eyes locked on Arcanus, leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss that promised more than just pleasure. With a gentle hand, Marek guided Arcanus to lie back on the bed, his gaze never leaving Arcanus's face as he positioned himself between his legs.

The touch of Marek's thighs against Arcanus's sent a jolt of electricity through him. He hissed out a breath, his hands finding their way to Marek's shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I can’t wait to explore all of your hidden knots,” the woodworker murmured as his fingers traced a path down Arcanus’s chest. Marek’s eyes flicked down toward the wizard’s small-clothes, a smile curling his lips.

“I hope you’ll find them pleasing.” Arcanus shivered as Marek’s hand drifted lower, brushing the juncture of the wizard’s thighs.

“I will, so long as it pleasesyou,” the other man rumbled. He tugged the small-clothes down, grinning as Arcanus was bared to him.

Arcanus's breath caught in his throat as Marek's insistent lips found their way to the sensitive head of his cock. A soft moan escaped Arcanus, his body arching against the intense pleasure. Marek's tongue, a playful, teasing flame, circled the sensitive skin. The sensation was unlike anything Arcanus had ever experienced, a dizzying mixture of heat, pleasure, and a raw, primal need.

With a gasp, Arcanus’s hips bucked against Marek's touch, a wave of need washing over him. Marek's hands moved lower, grasping at his hips, the woodworker’s thumbs pressing into the sensitive flesh. Arcanus trembled, surrender coursing through him. The room seemed to narrow, the world outside fading away until all that remained was the heat of Marek's body against his, the insistent rhythm of his tongue, the way those clever fingers traced the skin of Arcanus’s thighs.

“Marek,” Arcanus rasped. Marek's dark eyes met his, a searing glance that sent shivers down his spine. Arcanus couldn't think, only feel, only experience the rawneedthat pulsed between them.

The door flew open with a resounding bang. A royal herald strode in, then abruptly halted, his eyes widening at the tableau before him. So startled was he that he forgot his usual announcement, leaving the royal family to file in without fanfare.

Marek froze, a look of startled panic on his face. He scrambled to reclaim his clothing, fingers fumbling with the fabric. In his haste, he stumbled upon Arcanus's discarded robe, tossing it towards the wizard. Arcanus remained where he was. There was no way he could put on his robe and maintain anysemblance of dignity at this point. He allowed it to drape over him like a flimsy blanket.

“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, King Aldric, Her Majesty, Queen Isolde, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Eliora!” the herald proclaimed belatedly, his voice laced with confusion, as if he'd just intruded on a strange dream.

The royal family took in the scene with amusement and secondhand embarrassment. Heat flooded Arcanus's cheeks. What did this mean for Marek and the competition? And what fate awaitedhim? Their lost inhibitions had doomed them both, surely. He exchanged a long look with Marek, who met his gaze with a flicker of something that could only be interpreted as regret that they'd been interrupted,notremorse for their actions.

This would cost Marek everything. And Arcanus, now too fond of the woodworker to allow that, knew he had to act. He cleared his throat and propped his head up with one arm as he lounged on the bed, attempting to project an air of relaxed composure. “You’re probably wondering how we got into this situation.”

King Aldric raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Indeed, we are.”

Queen Isolde stepped forward, her gentle gaze sweeping over the two men. “This was a demonstration, was it not?”

A… what? Arcanus blinked, his foggy brain slowly processing the Queen'sveryobvious statement. “The Queen has a most astute mind.”

“What?” Marek hissed, confusion evident in his voice.

“Just go with it,” Arcanus murmured, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “How better to demonstrate the superiority of this bed than to show how it brings two who are so different together as one?”

Princess Eliora's eyes lit with hope. “I think we’ve found our winner.”

The King crossed his arms. “Judgement will wait. We must hear how you ended up in this…predicament.”

---