Page 55 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“Yes, but what I’m saying is, it’s involved. Obviously. And I don’t know how. And neither do you.”
Fenn nodded. Morgrim’s reservations seemed slight, but it made sense that Morgrim would want to air them because that was the kind of man he was: honest, principled, wanting people to have the facts before they made decisions.
“That’s true,” Fenn said. “But this magic, whatever made the horse bring me here—it ain’t necessarily malicious?”
“Not necessarily.”
“So, it could be good?”
“Yes,” Morgrim admitted.
“Right. Good. You finished?” Fenn waited until Morgrim nodded. “Good. You said your piece. Now I’ll say mine. And it’s this: I never wanted a man the way I want you. And it ain’t just the physical, though I want that like you wouldn’t believe. But also, I like you. You’re the type of bloke I could...” Could fall in love with. Fenn swallowed. They’d never even fucked and he was thinking that? There was no way he could say that. “...Can be with. Riding. Talking. Watching you set the table. We get on, don’t we? Like we known each other for years. It might seem strange from the outside; I ain’t much and you’re Morgrim himself. But from the inside it feels just right. And that ain’t fake or me being used. So, maybe there is magic here. I’m grateful you told me. Reckon you did the right thing. But it ain’t evil and that’s good enough for me. I’m game to see how it goes if you are.”
Morgrim had listened with his face averted. Now he looked up, expression unguarded, eyes wide, like a boy who’s just been kissed for the first time.
“You like me.” Morgrim’s voice hitched halfway through.
“Ain’t it obvious?”
Morgrim uncrossed his arms and crossed them again. “I shouldn’t. Anyway. Even though you’ve said yes. I shouldn’t.”
Interesting change of wording: not “we” but “I.” Fenn took a shaky breath. He was pretty sure he understood what it meant. Morgrim was the clever, nervy type who thought he ought to be perfect. Blokes like that got tangled up in their own thoughts. They turned things round and round in their heads, until up was down, and day was night and the one thing they wanted was the very thing they ought not to have. Fenn also thought he understood the look in Morgrim’s eyes; reckless, guilty, shocked at his own daring. Fenn had seen it before, in men who were giving in to temptation. Fenn grinned and watched Morgrim’s eyes grow wide.
“No. You shouldn’t,” Fenn agreed.
“It...it would be wrong.” Morgrim said, weakly. He was staring at Fenn’s grin as if he couldn’t look away.
“Oh, aye. It would be very bad. Very bad indeed.”
“Yes.”
“But then, maybe you are a bit bad, eh? A bit wicked?”
“Yes, I am. You’re my guest and I...I want...”
“Aye?” Fenn closed the distance between them with a step. “What do you want?”
Morgrim closed his eyes. “You to fuck me. Hard. Like you said. Right here.”
Fenn didn’t touch him, just stood there, looking down at him, letting Morgrim sense his bulk and his strength. “Oh, aye, that’s bad. You oughtn’t to want that.”
Morgrim’s eyes fluttered open. “I know.”
“Going to let me do it anyway, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Morgrim breathed.
“Thank fuck,” Fenn murmured, and kissed him.
Morgrim opened his mouth and angled his head. His beard rasped against Fenn’s chin, but his lips were soft and yielding and he moaned into Fenn’s mouth, a breathy, desperate sound. He grabbed at Fenn’s shoulders and held on. Fenn took a couple of strides forward, making him stagger backwards. As Morgrim lost his balance, Fenn grabbed his arse, lifted him, and pinned him to the wall.
Morgrim wrapped his legs around Fenn’s hips. Fenn spared a hand to grope for Morgrim’s cock but that bloody robe was hampering his access. He tore at the material, managed to get a hand under, ascertained that Morgrim was, unfortunately, not naked underneath, but was wearing trousers. Damn. And although Morgrim’s robe clearly fastened down the front, there was not a button or a tie to be seen. Fenn kissed him again, harder, making him gasp and writhe, then pushed at Morgrim’s knee to signal get down. Morgrim obliged, shakily.
“Get this off.” Fenn plucked at the robe where it lay against Morgrim’s chest. “Have to show me. Never undressed a sorcerer before.”
Morgrim put a hand to his throat, slipped a finger under the join and undid a hidden button, then he went in from the other side and undid another, then swapped across again, zig-zag fashion. His tailor must have done it deliberate so the robe could never gape to show a flash of the flesh beneath.
“Always wear this, don’t you?” Fenn said, more or less at random. He didn’t want Morgrim thinking too much. In case he changed his mind.
