The Falling by J C Owens

Author:J C Owens [Owens, J C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: M/M Romance
ISBN: 9781944138202
Publisher: Etopia Press
Published: 2015-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

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On the fourth day of their captivity, a bath was brought for them, and after his master ordered him in first, Brenaith gleefully made use of it. He sighed with pleasure at being clean. When Shaynith-una took his own turn, Brenaith wanted to offer to wash him, to touch that silken body, but he glanced at his master’s cold, withdrawn expression and changed his mind.

He washed and combed his hair, and the urge to touch his master grew too powerful.

“Would you let me comb your hair? It is very tangled and will only get worse if it is not tended to soon.”

Shaynith-una turned his head listlessly from the tub, then got up with a sigh, completely unaware of his own beauty. Brenaith could not help but watch. His master’s body was pure art, almost too perfect to possibly be real. The knight toweled himself dry, eyeing Brenaith for a moment, before he nodded and came to sit in front of him, folding his long legs beneath him and leaning back against Brenaith’s legs to stare quietly into the fire.

Brenaith paused at this display of trust, the knight committing to such a vulnerable position. Trust, from Shaynith-una. It had seemed impossible that such a thing could ever develop between them, but here it was, undeniable.

He would take what he could get. Since their last bout of sexual congress, his master had been different. Forced to have no one other than Brenaith for company, it seemed he was opening to his human servant in a way that most likely would have taken years otherwise, if it had happened at all.

In some strange fashion he could not understand, Brenaith felt something for this being, this creature of legend that had seemed the worst of all fates.

Was this truth? Or was this something created between them borne out of desperation on Shaynith-una’s side, and a longing for a gentle touch on Brenaith’s?

It seemed a terribly unstable foundation on which to form any sort of relationship, but foolishly, Brenaith found himself leaning toward it instead of backing away as his experiences should have taught him.

His master gave a small, low sigh as Brenaith gathered up a long tress and began to work gently upon it, starting from the bottom and working his way up with patient, gentle fingers and comb.

The fire crackled and the knight let his head loll against Brenaith’s thigh as he guided him this way and that during his ministrations. It was sheer pleasure to run his hands freely through the silky mass, to take his time and tease the tangles out, bringing back its beautiful sheen. It was very intimate, very beguiling, something that lovers would do.

He had never even done this for Tynan.

He took his time, enjoying the peace of it all, the sense of freedom at the lack of dark energy. Though they might be imprisoned, this place held none of the horrors and malice of Lutan’s fortress.

Brenaith frowned. If this was energizing him, what was it

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