Denial, ch. 21: By His Side
Title: Denial, ch. 21: By His Side
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter
Rating: R
Genre: slash
Words: 2442
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: This continues the 'Round-Robin' fic 'Denial'. Takes place in Palestine but set during events of 2x10 "Walkabout" and references things we learn in series 3!
Summary: Carter & Much have arrived in Acre and are gathering provisions in the marketplace before they head south to join the King's forces. There are lessons to practice and things to learn at the market...
Many thanks to superbetas: wastingyourgum & darkentwisted
Want to play? Come join us! Check out the Rules and join in the Round Robin fun!
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20,
>>>---------------->
By His Side
by robinfanatic
Much tried to convince himself that coming back to Acre would not be difficult. Carter would be by his side. He was Carter's squire. A knight in training. This journey could not be more different than years before when he'd first looked upon this land. He knew what they faced this time and it had little to do with adventure or glory.
Dark smoke rising from the outskirts of the city... siege engines pounding the city walls… the screams... the incessant moans and cries of the wounded, of women and children... the drums... oh, the drums... the chanting--Allah Akbar... and the trumpets wailing...
Much shivered against the memories and for a brief moment could not find his breath. Carter's hand brushed his. Though they'd not crossed paths back then, their experiences were similar. Their scars were as real as the sun that was beginning to dip lower in the afternoon sky, as real as Carter's soft touch that gave Much the strength to face this place all over again. His heartbeat calmed. If Carter hadn't been there, hadn't sent an encouraging smile his way, he wondered if he would have turned back.
Acre's marketplace was busy. Not as vibrant as Cyprus, the city still showed obvious signs that it was recuperating from the awful siege that Much remembered so vividly. Acre was firmly in Crusader hands. Many of the locals were ambivalent about the presence of the French, the Pisans, the Genoese, and other soldiers from countries to the west. Carter's proficiency in Arabic brought them less scornful looks from shopkeepers. It would be easy to procure the provisions they'd need for the King's camp.
Carter looked worriedly at Much. His squire was quieter than usual, especially when they were surrounded by the colourful sights of a crowded market and the smells of fresh roasted meats and vegetables from vendors lined up and down the road. Carter tried to draw him out. "You're thinking of the last time you were here. Of Robin?"
"I don't think I can forget." Much felt like he'd repeated those words a thousand times since he'd met Carter. And Carter never shied away from talking about it.
"Good and bad times, they're part of who we are."
Much agreed though sometimes it was hard to remember anything good about his prior service in Palestine. He was quiet for a couple of minutes before he announced, "Kebabs."
"What?"
"Kebabs," the squire repeated, pointing toward skewered meats cooking over an open fire at one shop. "That's the good part."
Carter laughed so hard he started to choke. Much pounded his back. "Are you all right, Master?" But before Carter could respond, he asked, "Did you know that market day was on Wednesdays in Nottingham? When Robin and I were children, we'd play games in the marketplace. I think we drove his father mad."
"Mad?"
"We’d run through the streets, well, like children." Much's eyes lit up at those good memories. "We chased the chickens, or get muddied up in puddles. Robin would snatch fruit for us and run. A cart might get bumped and potatoes or eggs would spill to the ground. The shopkeepers would grab us both by the ears and drag us to Robin's father.”
“What happened?”
“I picked up the mess while Robin watched."
Carter looked at him incredulously. "Robin did not help you?"
Much laughed. "No. Master Malcolm knew that it would be harder for Robin to watch me take the punishment because of his foolishness!"
"An interesting way to teach a lesson," Carter replied. “Did it help?”
`
“No, 'course not!" Much remembered the mischief they'd gotten into fondly. Though Robin claimed he never went looking for trouble, Much wasn't so sure that was true. "I didn't mind really... I mean, that was the life I had. The life I accepted. It was my place. The master was strict but he treated me fairly. He was a good man."
Carter's thoughts drifted to his own childhood. He'd loved his own father dearly and suddenly found himself missing the stories by the hearth, hunting trips, excursions to Trevena, and the business trips to London, Aquitaine, and Bavaria, places that, to a young boy, seemed exotic. "Were they close? Robin and his father?"
"Very close," Much replied, recalling how he used to pray and ask God's forgiveness for being envious of Robin's relationship with Master Malcolm. He could barely remember his own father. "The master would be proud of the man Robin has become.”
"What happened to him?"
Much stared past Carter, surprised the memory still tore at his heart all these years later. "He died in a fire."
Carter shivered. He hadn't expected to hear that the lord had died such a violent death. "That must have been awful for Robin. He was lucky to have you by his side."
Much remembered the nights he held Robin in his arms. The young master stood like a rock when he visited his peasants. They admired his strength. Only Thornton and a few of the house servants knew the tears he cried. Only a few saw how much he missed his father. But he held that close, and rarely talked to Much about his feelings. Just like after Acre. That was Robin. "He needed a friend then," Much said quietly, "like I need one now."
The courage of an army of tens of thousands was in the smile that Carter cast Much's way. "I'll be here always."
If they hadn’t been in the middle of the marketplace, Much would’ve kissed the knight right there and then. Might’ve done more than that. Sighing that thought away, he realized that talk of Robin's father reminded him how little he knew about his lover. "Carter, what of your family?" Much asked.
Carter tensed and his smile wilted. "It's getting late. We'll have a long day tomorrow. We need to finish up here."
"What’s wrong?" Much asked, eyeing the knight suspiciously. Whilst his lover freely spoke on nearly every subject under the sun, he continued to keep this one part of his life hidden. His brother's death had been painful but there was something more that pervaded Carter’s thoughts.
Carter shook his head. “Nothing. Let's continue your lesson."
Much hesitated a moment but the look in Carter’s eyes told him he’d get nothing more from him. He'd be patient. His lover had darker secrets that he wasn't ready to share... like the regrets about some woman from his past that he'd mentioned during Brooks' drinking game in Cyprus. "What's it to be today?" he asked as they wandered down the street.
"The market."
"We did the market in Cyprus," Much pouted. "I've been to market hundreds, no, thousands of times. What else is there to learn here?”
Carter was back to his old self. He grinned mischievously. "You’ve been to market with your master's list when the shopkeeper tallied the bill and sent it back to the manor.”
“That’s true. But I bought the fruits and spices in Cyprus, counting out the coin myself," Much stated proudly.
“That you did," Carter nodded. "But today you will bargain with the vendor as well as use your counting skills to pay for the goods we buy. In Arabic."
"Arabic? But all I know is Assalamu--"
Carter held up his hand to quiet his pupil. "Wahid." Carter paused, waiting for Much to repeat the word. "It means 'one'. Wahid. Go on. Say it."
Much took in a deep breath. "Wahid."
"Ithnain."
"Two?"
The knight nodded. "Ithnain."
Much repeated the word and Carter continued the lesson until he got to twenty. They reviewed the numbers again until Much could recite them backwards and forwards.
Carter grabbed a royal blue tunic with gold trim and tossed it at Much. "This would suit you well. What does the sign say?"
"Five--"
Carter cleared his throat.
"I know. In Arabic," Much said. "Khamsa."
"Is it worth that?" Carter asked.
Much nodded his head from side to side then tipped it toward the shopkeeper. "Arbaa," he countered, pointing toward the tunic draped over his left arm.
"Ibn sharm--"
"Eh, eh, eh," Carter interrupted. It's a fair price, he told the vendor.
The man grinned when he heard Carter's Arabic. "Sahiiye," he replied, his gaze turned back toward Much. "Arbaa."
"Count out your coins and pay the shopkeeper, Much."
"Are you certain, Master? That's a colour worn by royals. I don't think the King would find it appro--appropriate--"
Carter cocked his head at Much. "Then wear it in my presence only, Much. Or not." His eyes twinkled. "Go on. Pay the man."
Much reached for his coin but noticed two young women and a burly-looking Saracen whispering animatedly from an upstairs window above the vendor's cart. One of the women pointed at Carter and wagged her finger. "Carter," Much said as he paid the shopkeeper, "I believe they like you."
The olive-skinned, dark-eyed girls of Acre had flirted with the two men and beckoned them from windows and doors as they'd wandered down the street. Carter smiled at them and bowed when they blew him kisses. Their hands flew to their hearts, disappointment etched in their faces when he shook his head. Carter looked up. These two women were not flirting. In fact, one looked quite angry. The other had braced her hands against the window sill and was staring at the knight. Her hand flew to her face and she screamed. The Saracen man's voice boomed in Arabic and all eyes on the street turned to the two Englishmen.
Much thanked the shopkeeper and took a step back. "Do you know what they're saying?"
"I think we should get out of here," Carter said.
"I think you're right!" Much shouted as the Saracen man pointed toward them.
Carter backed into a vegetable cart as the two women screeched. The cart tipped over and he looked apologetically at its owner. "Anah asif--"
"Run, Master!"
The shopkeeper charged after Carter. The knight grabbed another cart filled with a rainbow of produce in reds, yellows, and greens and toppled it over to block the man's path. Another vendor's wares spilled onto the street. Baskets flew. Pottery crashed. A row of finely forged swords clanked to the ground.
Scooting past a dozen other carts with Much on his heels, Carter looked over his shoulder. One of the young women and the Saracen were not too far behind, both shouting at the tops of their lungs. Others in the market ignored them as if they'd seen this scenario played out daily.
Carter slid below one cart and appeared on the other side. He stuffed fruits and kebabs in his pack and tossed coins at the vendor. Much ran past him and up the ramp of a wagon delivering casks of ale. Taking a flying leap, Much landed on the back of a horse tethered nearby. Carter catapulted himself onto the horse behind Much. He grabbed Much's waist as they galloped away from the market and headed toward the hills that overlooked the harbour.
Sliding off the horse, Carter collapsed in the tall grass. He started laughing.
Much stared down at the knight. He was not amused. "What was that?" he half-shouted as he dismounted. "I cannot believe... I think that man wanted to arrest us... or worse, kill--"
Carter wouldn't let him finish. He pulled Much down to the ground then smothered his mouth with his own. His tongue pressed Much's lips apart and dueled with the squire's, answering riposte for riposte. Greedy hands groped Much's body and the former outlaw moaned deeply, aching with need. Carter pressed against Much, shifting until he could feel flesh hardening beneath him as he ground against his lover. He moved slowly, gazing into Much's blue eyes and trailing kisses on his cheeks. Burying his face against Much's neck, he felt their pace quicken as Much thrust his hips to meet his. They climaxed together, their hearts pounding wildly, their breaths short. Carter rested his head against Much's chest, his fingers roaming, exploring... never wanting the passion to end.
Much tilted Carter's chin up for another kiss then sat up and stared down at Acre's rooftops. "Did you know her?" he asked.
"Know who?"
"That girl at the shop."
Carter could tell from the look on Much's face that he wasn't going to get out of answering this one. "Yes, her name is Leila."
"Is that the one that ended badly?" Much asked. "Is that why she chased us?"
"That's not the one I spoke of," Carter replied, his voice low. "Leila and her sister tried to steal from me. When I saw what they were doing, I left without paying them."
"Paying them for goods--"
"For services, Much," he said matter-of-factly. He'd been lost in those days after his brother died, never looking for love. Comfort and release could easily be bought in local villages and often were readily offered by noblemen in the camps. They were merely diversions while he plotted his revenge against Robin as war raged around him.
Much pursed his lips. "Oh." He glanced sidelong at his lover and smiled. He snaked his arm around Carter's waist. "So the other one, the one that ended--"
Carter reached for Much's hand and squeezed it tightly. He closed his eyes against some painful memory and just shook his head. "Sun'll be going down soon. We should head to the inn."
Much was disappointed that he still couldn't get Carter to talk about his past but he let it pass again. "A room... and a bath?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course!" Carter exclaimed. Pulling a frond of lavender from his tunic, he twirled the stem and threw a cheeky grin at his squire.
Much jumped up. "Let's go!"
"There's no need to rush, Much."
"But a bath, Carter," he teased. "With lavender." Smiling, the squire held out his hand to to his lover and helped him up. He pulled the knight into another passionate kiss.
Carter pulled away. "Better stop--"
"Why?" Much pouted.
Carter traced his fingers around Much's lips. "I'll never leave this hillside if you keep that up."
"And I thought you had me, that I was your servant, your slave." Much's arms snaked around his lover's waist and he caressed Carter's face with blue eyes that spoke of passion and love.
"That look makes me your prisoner," Carter sighed.
"I like that thought," Much smiled again. "So I'm the one with the power."
Carter smiled. "More than you'll ever know, my love."
>>>----------------->
The boys are thrown into the thick of battle when they arrive at the king's camp in chapter 22... this way...
Come to Denial... the place we go to make it all better...
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter
Rating: R
Genre: slash
Words: 2442
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: This continues the 'Round-Robin' fic 'Denial'. Takes place in Palestine but set during events of 2x10 "Walkabout" and references things we learn in series 3!
Summary: Carter & Much have arrived in Acre and are gathering provisions in the marketplace before they head south to join the King's forces. There are lessons to practice and things to learn at the market...
Many thanks to superbetas: wastingyourgum & darkentwisted
Want to play? Come join us! Check out the Rules and join in the Round Robin fun!
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20,
>>>---------------->
By His Side
by robinfanatic
Much tried to convince himself that coming back to Acre would not be difficult. Carter would be by his side. He was Carter's squire. A knight in training. This journey could not be more different than years before when he'd first looked upon this land. He knew what they faced this time and it had little to do with adventure or glory.
Dark smoke rising from the outskirts of the city... siege engines pounding the city walls… the screams... the incessant moans and cries of the wounded, of women and children... the drums... oh, the drums... the chanting--Allah Akbar... and the trumpets wailing...
Much shivered against the memories and for a brief moment could not find his breath. Carter's hand brushed his. Though they'd not crossed paths back then, their experiences were similar. Their scars were as real as the sun that was beginning to dip lower in the afternoon sky, as real as Carter's soft touch that gave Much the strength to face this place all over again. His heartbeat calmed. If Carter hadn't been there, hadn't sent an encouraging smile his way, he wondered if he would have turned back.
Acre's marketplace was busy. Not as vibrant as Cyprus, the city still showed obvious signs that it was recuperating from the awful siege that Much remembered so vividly. Acre was firmly in Crusader hands. Many of the locals were ambivalent about the presence of the French, the Pisans, the Genoese, and other soldiers from countries to the west. Carter's proficiency in Arabic brought them less scornful looks from shopkeepers. It would be easy to procure the provisions they'd need for the King's camp.
Carter looked worriedly at Much. His squire was quieter than usual, especially when they were surrounded by the colourful sights of a crowded market and the smells of fresh roasted meats and vegetables from vendors lined up and down the road. Carter tried to draw him out. "You're thinking of the last time you were here. Of Robin?"
"I don't think I can forget." Much felt like he'd repeated those words a thousand times since he'd met Carter. And Carter never shied away from talking about it.
"Good and bad times, they're part of who we are."
Much agreed though sometimes it was hard to remember anything good about his prior service in Palestine. He was quiet for a couple of minutes before he announced, "Kebabs."
"What?"
"Kebabs," the squire repeated, pointing toward skewered meats cooking over an open fire at one shop. "That's the good part."
Carter laughed so hard he started to choke. Much pounded his back. "Are you all right, Master?" But before Carter could respond, he asked, "Did you know that market day was on Wednesdays in Nottingham? When Robin and I were children, we'd play games in the marketplace. I think we drove his father mad."
"Mad?"
"We’d run through the streets, well, like children." Much's eyes lit up at those good memories. "We chased the chickens, or get muddied up in puddles. Robin would snatch fruit for us and run. A cart might get bumped and potatoes or eggs would spill to the ground. The shopkeepers would grab us both by the ears and drag us to Robin's father.”
“What happened?”
“I picked up the mess while Robin watched."
Carter looked at him incredulously. "Robin did not help you?"
Much laughed. "No. Master Malcolm knew that it would be harder for Robin to watch me take the punishment because of his foolishness!"
"An interesting way to teach a lesson," Carter replied. “Did it help?”
`
“No, 'course not!" Much remembered the mischief they'd gotten into fondly. Though Robin claimed he never went looking for trouble, Much wasn't so sure that was true. "I didn't mind really... I mean, that was the life I had. The life I accepted. It was my place. The master was strict but he treated me fairly. He was a good man."
Carter's thoughts drifted to his own childhood. He'd loved his own father dearly and suddenly found himself missing the stories by the hearth, hunting trips, excursions to Trevena, and the business trips to London, Aquitaine, and Bavaria, places that, to a young boy, seemed exotic. "Were they close? Robin and his father?"
"Very close," Much replied, recalling how he used to pray and ask God's forgiveness for being envious of Robin's relationship with Master Malcolm. He could barely remember his own father. "The master would be proud of the man Robin has become.”
"What happened to him?"
Much stared past Carter, surprised the memory still tore at his heart all these years later. "He died in a fire."
Carter shivered. He hadn't expected to hear that the lord had died such a violent death. "That must have been awful for Robin. He was lucky to have you by his side."
Much remembered the nights he held Robin in his arms. The young master stood like a rock when he visited his peasants. They admired his strength. Only Thornton and a few of the house servants knew the tears he cried. Only a few saw how much he missed his father. But he held that close, and rarely talked to Much about his feelings. Just like after Acre. That was Robin. "He needed a friend then," Much said quietly, "like I need one now."
The courage of an army of tens of thousands was in the smile that Carter cast Much's way. "I'll be here always."
If they hadn’t been in the middle of the marketplace, Much would’ve kissed the knight right there and then. Might’ve done more than that. Sighing that thought away, he realized that talk of Robin's father reminded him how little he knew about his lover. "Carter, what of your family?" Much asked.
Carter tensed and his smile wilted. "It's getting late. We'll have a long day tomorrow. We need to finish up here."
"What’s wrong?" Much asked, eyeing the knight suspiciously. Whilst his lover freely spoke on nearly every subject under the sun, he continued to keep this one part of his life hidden. His brother's death had been painful but there was something more that pervaded Carter’s thoughts.
Carter shook his head. “Nothing. Let's continue your lesson."
Much hesitated a moment but the look in Carter’s eyes told him he’d get nothing more from him. He'd be patient. His lover had darker secrets that he wasn't ready to share... like the regrets about some woman from his past that he'd mentioned during Brooks' drinking game in Cyprus. "What's it to be today?" he asked as they wandered down the street.
"The market."
"We did the market in Cyprus," Much pouted. "I've been to market hundreds, no, thousands of times. What else is there to learn here?”
Carter was back to his old self. He grinned mischievously. "You’ve been to market with your master's list when the shopkeeper tallied the bill and sent it back to the manor.”
“That’s true. But I bought the fruits and spices in Cyprus, counting out the coin myself," Much stated proudly.
“That you did," Carter nodded. "But today you will bargain with the vendor as well as use your counting skills to pay for the goods we buy. In Arabic."
"Arabic? But all I know is Assalamu--"
Carter held up his hand to quiet his pupil. "Wahid." Carter paused, waiting for Much to repeat the word. "It means 'one'. Wahid. Go on. Say it."
Much took in a deep breath. "Wahid."
"Ithnain."
"Two?"
The knight nodded. "Ithnain."
Much repeated the word and Carter continued the lesson until he got to twenty. They reviewed the numbers again until Much could recite them backwards and forwards.
Carter grabbed a royal blue tunic with gold trim and tossed it at Much. "This would suit you well. What does the sign say?"
"Five--"
Carter cleared his throat.
"I know. In Arabic," Much said. "Khamsa."
"Is it worth that?" Carter asked.
Much nodded his head from side to side then tipped it toward the shopkeeper. "Arbaa," he countered, pointing toward the tunic draped over his left arm.
"Ibn sharm--"
"Eh, eh, eh," Carter interrupted. It's a fair price, he told the vendor.
The man grinned when he heard Carter's Arabic. "Sahiiye," he replied, his gaze turned back toward Much. "Arbaa."
"Count out your coins and pay the shopkeeper, Much."
"Are you certain, Master? That's a colour worn by royals. I don't think the King would find it appro--appropriate--"
Carter cocked his head at Much. "Then wear it in my presence only, Much. Or not." His eyes twinkled. "Go on. Pay the man."
Much reached for his coin but noticed two young women and a burly-looking Saracen whispering animatedly from an upstairs window above the vendor's cart. One of the women pointed at Carter and wagged her finger. "Carter," Much said as he paid the shopkeeper, "I believe they like you."
The olive-skinned, dark-eyed girls of Acre had flirted with the two men and beckoned them from windows and doors as they'd wandered down the street. Carter smiled at them and bowed when they blew him kisses. Their hands flew to their hearts, disappointment etched in their faces when he shook his head. Carter looked up. These two women were not flirting. In fact, one looked quite angry. The other had braced her hands against the window sill and was staring at the knight. Her hand flew to her face and she screamed. The Saracen man's voice boomed in Arabic and all eyes on the street turned to the two Englishmen.
Much thanked the shopkeeper and took a step back. "Do you know what they're saying?"
"I think we should get out of here," Carter said.
"I think you're right!" Much shouted as the Saracen man pointed toward them.
Carter backed into a vegetable cart as the two women screeched. The cart tipped over and he looked apologetically at its owner. "Anah asif--"
"Run, Master!"
The shopkeeper charged after Carter. The knight grabbed another cart filled with a rainbow of produce in reds, yellows, and greens and toppled it over to block the man's path. Another vendor's wares spilled onto the street. Baskets flew. Pottery crashed. A row of finely forged swords clanked to the ground.
Scooting past a dozen other carts with Much on his heels, Carter looked over his shoulder. One of the young women and the Saracen were not too far behind, both shouting at the tops of their lungs. Others in the market ignored them as if they'd seen this scenario played out daily.
Carter slid below one cart and appeared on the other side. He stuffed fruits and kebabs in his pack and tossed coins at the vendor. Much ran past him and up the ramp of a wagon delivering casks of ale. Taking a flying leap, Much landed on the back of a horse tethered nearby. Carter catapulted himself onto the horse behind Much. He grabbed Much's waist as they galloped away from the market and headed toward the hills that overlooked the harbour.
Sliding off the horse, Carter collapsed in the tall grass. He started laughing.
Much stared down at the knight. He was not amused. "What was that?" he half-shouted as he dismounted. "I cannot believe... I think that man wanted to arrest us... or worse, kill--"
Carter wouldn't let him finish. He pulled Much down to the ground then smothered his mouth with his own. His tongue pressed Much's lips apart and dueled with the squire's, answering riposte for riposte. Greedy hands groped Much's body and the former outlaw moaned deeply, aching with need. Carter pressed against Much, shifting until he could feel flesh hardening beneath him as he ground against his lover. He moved slowly, gazing into Much's blue eyes and trailing kisses on his cheeks. Burying his face against Much's neck, he felt their pace quicken as Much thrust his hips to meet his. They climaxed together, their hearts pounding wildly, their breaths short. Carter rested his head against Much's chest, his fingers roaming, exploring... never wanting the passion to end.
Much tilted Carter's chin up for another kiss then sat up and stared down at Acre's rooftops. "Did you know her?" he asked.
"Know who?"
"That girl at the shop."
Carter could tell from the look on Much's face that he wasn't going to get out of answering this one. "Yes, her name is Leila."
"Is that the one that ended badly?" Much asked. "Is that why she chased us?"
"That's not the one I spoke of," Carter replied, his voice low. "Leila and her sister tried to steal from me. When I saw what they were doing, I left without paying them."
"Paying them for goods--"
"For services, Much," he said matter-of-factly. He'd been lost in those days after his brother died, never looking for love. Comfort and release could easily be bought in local villages and often were readily offered by noblemen in the camps. They were merely diversions while he plotted his revenge against Robin as war raged around him.
Much pursed his lips. "Oh." He glanced sidelong at his lover and smiled. He snaked his arm around Carter's waist. "So the other one, the one that ended--"
Carter reached for Much's hand and squeezed it tightly. He closed his eyes against some painful memory and just shook his head. "Sun'll be going down soon. We should head to the inn."
Much was disappointed that he still couldn't get Carter to talk about his past but he let it pass again. "A room... and a bath?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course!" Carter exclaimed. Pulling a frond of lavender from his tunic, he twirled the stem and threw a cheeky grin at his squire.
Much jumped up. "Let's go!"
"There's no need to rush, Much."
"But a bath, Carter," he teased. "With lavender." Smiling, the squire held out his hand to to his lover and helped him up. He pulled the knight into another passionate kiss.
Carter pulled away. "Better stop--"
"Why?" Much pouted.
Carter traced his fingers around Much's lips. "I'll never leave this hillside if you keep that up."
"And I thought you had me, that I was your servant, your slave." Much's arms snaked around his lover's waist and he caressed Carter's face with blue eyes that spoke of passion and love.
"That look makes me your prisoner," Carter sighed.
"I like that thought," Much smiled again. "So I'm the one with the power."
Carter smiled. "More than you'll ever know, my love."
>>>----------------->
The boys are thrown into the thick of battle when they arrive at the king's camp in chapter 22... this way...
Come to Denial... the place we go to make it all better...