My Man Godric by R. Cooper

tremor in his chest and another release of aroused,
embarrassed heat throughout his body.
    He remembered once or twice in those early
days how Godric had asked permission to sit near him and how silly
Bertie had found the requests at the time. Now his mouth was dry
with hope that Godric might ask him again.
    Godric glanced at him and Bertie held his
breath.
    “May I ask you something, my lord, if it is
not too bold?”
    “I cannot begin to imagine what from
you I would find too bold.” Bertie’s voice dropped to a whisper so
as not to break this spell that made his Godric speak so much.
Godric laughed . Laughed at long last, as he hadn’t in
years.
    Bertie wanted to laugh with him, even if
suddenly he was certain that Godric was going to ask something
innocent and that Bertie was only imagining all these possible
southern courting rituals.
    “Your brother was right.” Godric added as
his delightful laughter finally faded. “After…. When I first met
you, he told me that he had never known you to lie. No man more
honest, he said.”
    Godric’s good humor abruptly disappeared.
“When you… when you began to speak of me… as you do now, I was
certain you were having fun at my expense. I am sorry to say I
forgot your brother’s words to me for some time, living at court.
Lords can be the most foolish and dishonest of people.”
    That was true enough, even if it stung. “But
not you, Godric.”
    “I am not a lord.” Godric moved his
shoulders.
    “Are we back on that again?” Bertie pushed
out a tiny sound of exasperation but felt, somehow, that he had
once more amused Godric.
    “Others care if you do not.” The man argued
just the same. Bertie was starting to think it was a consequence of
all Godric’s strategizing that he always thought the worst. Bertie
was going to have to do something about it if they were to ever get
anywhere.
    “And what should that matter to a brave
champion?” he huffed, and received stillness for a reply. Godric
took one breath and then another. Then he nodded.
    “Once again, my lord, you are right,” Godric
agreed, then picked up the cat and moved it to the side. Ignoring
its protests, Godric turned back to Bertie. His stare was so
thoughtful and all-seeing that Bertie bit his lip and fought to be
patient, to think like a repressed or shy Southern stable boy.
Still, he felt he ought to say something.
    But it was dark and warm and they were so
close together, and Godric was so nearly naked.
    So what Bertie said was, “If you are
thinking of inviting me to your bed, Godric, you must know my
answer is yes.”
    There was a flicker in Godric’s expression,
as though this answer from Bertie could have possibly been
unexpected, and then as if Bertie had not made this very thing
clear to Godric a hundred times before, Godric smiled and rubbed at
his nose as though pleased, but embarrassed.
    “We are already in my bed,” he pointed out
in a rough voice and Bertie straightened for one second, held back
by surprise, and then his body caught up with his racing mind and
heart and launched itself at Godric.
    Godric caught him with the tiniest grunt,
either in surprise or because of his weight. Bertie did not care,
and apologizing would have meant taking his mouth away and he
finally had it where he had wanted it for so long. He pressed
kisses to Godric’s cheeks and jaw without much aim, landing them
north and south until he at last felt Godric’s lips beneath his.
They opened for a smile and then moments later in a soft plea for
more.
    Bertie had not thought Godric could be soft
but he was unexpectedly and delightfully so as Bertie was not.
Bertie was hard and itching with need, hot as he struggled to throw
aside furs and pillows and climb atop Godric. Some part of him
warned that he was once again taking advantage, but then his weight
toppled them down and Godric’s hands landed at his sides and held
him close and that part of him went silent.
    Bertie wanted those hands there at