![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
simeon_josueSimeon had thought he'd feel relieved when they'd finally start their journey across the mountains--he'd be back in familiar territory, after all, where he'd have an advantage on Josué.
Instead, marching along with the soldiers made him more aware than ever of how small his life had become. For so many days, it had consisted of nothing but Josué's tent and the chains and Josué's demands on him. He owned nothing. Even the clothes he wore had been given to him, offcasts Bibeau must have gathered around the camp.
The mountains that had meant freedom to him once had become strange and distant. Already they were no longer his, and Simeon knew he no longer belonged here. There was no freedom for a man forced to walk after Josué, who was riding a shaggy bay pony, one hand firmly holding a chain attached to Simeon's collar.
Simeon, in turn, had been given the reins of the gray mare who'd fought so bravely for her freedom. Josué had claimed her for his own, as he’d said he would, and she carried his personal supplies.
"You're responsible for her," Josué had said with a small smile. "Don't lose her. Bibeau will have made certain to pack some ginger…"
Simeon had blushed furiously. "It won’t do you much good crossing these mountains. Do you think they'll let you take a break just to punish me?"
"If you're too much of a nuisance, Archambeau will have you shot. I very much don't want that to happen. How about you?"
Still flushed and furious, Simeon had averted his eyes as Josué had laughed again.
"When all this is over, you'll thank me. Until then, you could do worse than learning from the little mare. She did what was right for her herd. She doesn't feel any guilt for carrying my packs or accepting an apple from my hand."
"You also haven't tormented her," Simeon had muttered.
"I'll make it up to you after we've taken Guadago. I'll torment you most pleasurably on a bed of Gabradian silks. And until then, I'll make sure to keep you warm at night."
Josué had used him again, that last night before they'd set out. It had been a slow and unhurried affair, Josué taking him as if that was how it had always been between them, making it last long enough that pleasure loosened Simeon's limbs and he'd found himself instinctively moving with Josué's rhythm, forgetting his resentment for a moment as Josué's hand teased his cock until he moaned loud enough that the guard in front of his tent must have heard.
There had been no flash of Philippe's dark eyes when Josué had wrung his climax out of him, only the awareness of Josué's hot breath against his skin and the unbearable rightness of feeling him right there where every thrust made his limbs tremble with pleasure.
Embarrassed to realize where his thoughts had taken him, Simeon hastily looked up. They were reaching the head of the valley--the first climb awaited. If all went well, they'd make camp in the next valley tonight, which Josué had glimpsed from above, and where the lake would provide water for the ponies.
When he turned his head, he found Josué's eyes resting on him, hot and knowing--although surely he had to be imagining it. There was no way that Josué could know what he was thinking.
*
No, Simeon thought bitterly as he held Josué's gaze with what little of his pride was left to him, the only thing Josué was thinking of right now was no doubt what he would do with Simeon once they made camp.
The gray mare climbed steadily, her hooves finding safe places to step with unfailing instinct. When Simeon turned, he could see the valley they’d crossed spread below them—green grass, hazelnut trees, the musical sound of a spring they’d passed without stopping to water the horses, for Simeon knew that there was a rivulet waiting on the other side of the ridge they were cresting now.
He supposed that was the plan, at least. He and Josué were riding towards the back of the train of men and ponies. It was Archambeau who led them—somewhere before them, out of sight, following one of the men who’d been Simeon’s friends for so many years.
Even though he’d hoped to make his escape with their help, Simeon now found himself grateful that he was too far away to catch a glimpse of who it was. It seemed unbearable that they should see him like this—obediently following Josué, leashed like a dog.
The incline had forced Josué to dismount as well, leading his shaggy bay pony up the narrow path. He seemed remarkably confident that Simeon would do as he was bid, Simeon thought with some bitterness—but then Simeon had proven before that he’d do what he was told to do. Why should it be any different out here in the open, where anyone could observe how well Josué had him tamed?
When they made it to the crest of the ridge that connected the higher peaks rising to both sides of the valley, Josué paused for a moment. There was enough space for Simeon to approach and to stop for a moment by his side.
Before them spread the next valley—just as Simeon had promised. Verdant green beckoned, all the more tempting because it was surrounded by the rocky walls of the mountains that rose around it, shielding them from view. Within an hour, they’d reach the small stream where they could water the ponies, and then it wasn’t far to the bottom of the valley, where the blue lake was waiting.
Simeon pointed at the rocks to their left. “There’s the peak you climbed a few days ago.”
It looked like an easy climb from here, but Simeon knew the view was treacherous. It was possible to approach from this side, but soon you’d find yourself standing before sheer walls that rose high above you, offering no path upwards. It was possible to circle around it, but the going was dangerous—easier to approach from the other side, riding up through the next valley as Josué must have done.
Josué and Allard. The thought made him flinch even now.
What had they talked about? What had Allard said?
Josué had been in a mood when he returned. Had Allard provoked him—and what had Josué told him in turn?
Shame clenched in his stomach at the memory of Allard’s eyes on him, resting naked in Josue’s bed. Allard already knew the worst; there was no need to worry about what had happened during their little excursion.
He obediently followed behind Josué, leashed like a dog, as they crested the ridge and began to descend once more. He was impressed that the soldiers marched quietly for the most part—orders were carried back and forth from front to end by messengers. There were no signal trumpets, no rolling of drums, no shouts. This was indeed a well-disciplined troop of seasoned warriors beyond compare with the soldiers that had been sent against the mountains every now and then when a general remembered their existence.
It meant that the treaty had been the right choice. They’d never have survived war if the full force of the emperor’s wrath had descended on them. Still, that didn’t mean Simeon had to like it.
They halted an hour later when they reached the rivulet coming down from the wall of rock rising to their right. For a while, the water followed the path they were taking, and so the ponies were watered and the men quenched their thirst.
“Drink,” Josué said. He gestured for him to take both of their ponies down to the rivulet.
Simeon was painfully aware of the jingling of the chain as he followed the order, Josué following him down in turn, chain held lightly in his hand.
After the climb, it was good to be able to pour water over his hot face. Simeon drank deeply from his cupped hands while the ponies drank next to him, bridles jingling just like his chains. When he looked up, he found Josué watching him with a small smile on his lips. He held out his canteen and Simeon filled it for him. Josué drank deeply as he watched.
“We’ll be able to see the lake you’ve seen before, once we come around that bend,” Simeon said, nodding at where the path turned around the mountain before them. “Tonight we’ll sleep by its shore.”
Josué’s smile widened. “Is it another glacier lake? Will I have to restrain you from casting yourself into it?”
“It’s spring-fed, not glacier melt.” Simeon found himself flushing for no good reason. “At this time of the year, the temperature will be bearable. You might take a bath to cool your ardor without taking a chill, Lieutenant.”
Josué threw his head back and laughed, eyes gleaming. “I very much doubt that even a glacier pool would be able to accomplish that.”
*
By the time they arrived at the shore of the lake, Simeon was glad that the day’s march had come to an end. It had been a while since he’d walked all day—lately, he’d spent rather a lot of time in Josué’s bed, or chained on Josué’s floor. While it was good to get to stretch his muscles again, it had been exhausting. Moreover, there’d been no chance of escape with the chain on his collar and Josué’s watchful eyes on him.
“There. We’ve made it.” Josué dismounted his bay gelding, handing the reins to Simeon. “Bibeau will see to my tent. You’ll take care of the ponies.”
Simeon nodded at the chain in Josué’s hand. “You’ll have to lead me to the water if you want them to drink.”
Josué looked at him thoughtfully, then laughed and used the chain to pull Simeon close. “I do like you leashed,” he admitted. “But I don’t really need it, do I?”
A moment later, he unfastened the chain. “Go. Water them, brush them down and see that they’re fed before you return. You’re responsible for them. If I observe any neglect, it’s your hide that will feel the consequences.”
Simeon bristled. “I wouldn’t let an animal come to harm just because—”
“Because?” Josué watched, infuriatingly calm and amused, looking as fresh as he’d looked in the morning while Simeon felt exhausted and footsore.
“Because you take pleasure in frustrating me,” Simeon said, biting back what he’d truly wanted to say.
“Ah, I’d never frustrate you,” Josué breathed against his lips. “Not if you’re good. Now hurry, and don’t make me wait. It won’t go well for you if you make me send out Bibeau after you.”
Simeon did as he was bid, obediently following his master’s orders like a well-trained hound. The bitterness in his heart didn’t last long; when he reached the shore of the lake a few minutes later, the water spread out before him as calm as a mirror, reflecting the sky that was slowly turning a soft pink as the sun began to sink behind the mountains.
Reeds swayed in a gently breeze, the water lapping at the shore. Simeon pulled off the boots he’d been given and waded a few steps into the water with the ponies. The water was pleasantly cool against his hot feet, and he leaned against the gray mare as the ponies drank deeply, his eyes on the lake instead of the camp behind him.
He could hear snatches of conversation, fragments of a soldiers’ song, the usual sounds made by men and animals as camp was set up. But once more discipline held—there were no shouts, no trumpet or drums, the men doing their work quietly and efficiently. The men had been chosen well for the mission.
Simeon was grateful for the discipline when he led the ponies to the horse line where soldiers were busy brushing and feeding the pack animals. The men looked up when he approached, and just as he’d expected he was the target of mocking comments and laughter, but the men knew that an arduous journey lay before them and that their officers would be quick to punish any quarrel.
Simeon brushed the ponies down in peace, cleaning their hooves and seeing them provided with a feed bag of oats each before he left them in the care of the sergeant tasked with keeping watch over the horse lines.
The mountains rose above him, beckoning him with the freedom that awaited, but Simeon forced himself to keep his eyes on the grass as he made his way back to where he’d left Josué.
Small fires had sprung up around which the soldiers had gathered to eat. It was not yet cold; the fires were small enough that they’d burn down over night. As long as they remained down in the valleys, the men could sleep out in the open without freezing to death. It would be more difficult once they went deeper into the mountains—not that Josué had to fear the cold, he thought bitterly. The officers had their own pack animals, carrying small tents and furs. Josué would be warm enough—and so would Simeon, if he kept playing the obedient hound and keeping Josué warm at night.
“Off to see the colonel,” Bibeau said in answer to Simeon’s questioning gaze when he finally reached the place where he’d left Josué. “Should be back any moment. Otherwise his dinner will be burnt and he’ll only have himself to blame.”
Simeon eyed the pan in which Bibeau was frying eggs over a small fire he’d built next to Josué’s tent.
“I wouldn’t worry,” he said. “He’ll find a way to blame it on me.”
Bibeau chuckled in appreciation.
Josué appeared before the eggs were burnt. He nodded at Simeon, apparently unsurprised that Simeon had returned faithfully like the good hound he was, even without his leash.
Nevertheless, Simeon’s docility appeared to have put him into a good mood. Josué patted the log on which he was sitting in invitation, and when Simeon joined him cautiously, Josué shared his eggs and bread with him while Bibeau walked off to see a friend, he announced with a wink.
Said friend appeared to be an enterprising soldier who’d brought hook and line, for Bibeau soon had a nicely-sized trout sizzling on the fire for them.
The sun had almost completely set now. From his perch on the log, Simeon watched as the sky slowly turned from purple to dark blue, then slowly fading to black. Stars appeared between the jagged mountaintops, their reflection shining on the water. Simeon’s limbs were heavy, but it was a good weariness—the exhaustion that came from a full day of exercise.
From one of the packs the gray mare had carried, Bibeau had produced a bottle of the local cider. Josué shared that, too, pouring a cup for Simeon as if they were friends sharing a meal, and not what they were in reality—officer and deserter, captor and captive.
Josué treated him better than the men of his own company. Simeon doubted that any of the men sitting around the small, scattered fires were dining on freshly caught trout, eggs and cider tonight.
It was unsettling. With the crisp taste of autumn apples on his tongue and the starlight illuminating the lake, it was all too easy to forget his circumstances. Simeon felt almost content—at least until he moved and became aware of the collar around his neck once more.
Why was Josué treating him so well? There was no reason for him to do it. Josué could have made him fetch his own food from one of the cooking fires like the soldiers. Instead, Josué chose to treat him like this, for reasons Simeon didn’t understand.
When he turned his head, he saw that Josué was watching him with a slight smile. Embarrassed, Simeon had to look away after a moment. It shouldn’t be so easy to let down his guard around him. Just because Josué was occasionally capable of treating him well didn’t mean that he hadn’t done all the other terrible things.
After a moment, Simeon looked up again and found that Josué was still looking at him, looking utterly at ease.
“If you’d treated me like this,” Simeon said quietly, “I would have followed you willingly.”
It wasn’t even a lie. Back then, life had been misery. He’d known nothing else. Starvation, war, the village barely surviving from harvest to harvest—and then the army with its promises of food and clothes and coin that had never materialized. Instead of starving among people he knew, he found himself starving in muddy fields.
If Josué had smiled at him back then, the way Philippe had, wouldn’t he have latched on to that show of kindness too?
Josué’s lips quirked. “Ah, but you forget that back then I didn’t have anything to offer to woo a recalcitrant peasant given to sedition.”
The words stung. Was that what was happening? Had Simeon allowed himself to be wooed by empty gestures?
“A small show of kindness would have been enough,” Simeon said bitterly, because it was true—that was all it would have taken back then. “If you’d been kind to me once or twice, I probably would have let you do whatever you wanted. Fortunately you taught your lessons well. I learned that there’s no such thing as kindness from men like you.”
“Isn’t there?” Josué said mildly, sipping the crisp cider he’d shared with Simeon.
“You’ve told me yourself—this is just a game to you.” Simeon gestured tiredly at the small fire, the clothes he wore, the lake spread out peacefully before them in the starlight. “It’s not kindness if you wield it like a weapon to break me.”
Josué smiled and took away his empty cup. “And yet, if you truly believed I wasn’t capable of kindness, I don’t think you would dare to speak so freely to me.”
*
Josué’s tent was small. Unlike the large tent in the camp that had held a bed, a desk and a table, it was just big enough for a man to sleep in with his gear—or two men, Simeon discovered, if they didn’t mind sleeping pressed against each other.
Josué did indeed not mind that fact. Knowing him, it came as a perk.
Bibeau had spread furs on the ground—sheepskin that would keep out the cold, once they were higher up, with warm, woolen blankets to cover them.
Josué smiled when he saw Simeon survey the tent’s interior and beckoned him towards him. “Take off your clothes,” he said softly. “It will be warmer that way.”
Simeon hesitated for a moment, then followed, as they’d both known he would.
There was just enough space to sit up inside the tent, and wriggling out of his clothes in such a confined space was hardly a seductive display. Nevertheless, once he hastily slid beneath the blankets, he found Josué waiting for him—just as naked as Simeon was, his skin pleasantly hot against his own.
Josué slid a pleased hand up Simeon’s chest. “Better than a stove. You’ll keep me warm in the mountains.”
“I don’t think you’ll need much help with that,” Simeon said bitterly, shivering when Josué’s cock pressed against his thigh, hot as a furnace against his skin.
“You’ll be grateful for it soon enough.” Josué’s hands idly sought out a nipple, circling it until Simeon shivered again, and only then gently pinching it between his fingers.
“Spread your legs,” Josué whispered against his ear. “I want to come between your thighs.”
Embarrassment and relief rushed through Simeon. Would he be able to keep silent, with the men so close and only a thin layer of waxed cloth separating them from the camp? Still, he’d known that there would be a price for sleeping in Josué’s furs, and this was better than the alternative. At least he’d be able to walk tomorrow without any soreness.
As soon as he moved, Josué’s cock slid in between his spread thighs. Josué’s lips brushed against his nape.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you when I’m done,” Josué murmured thickly.
He curved his hand around Simeon’s thigh, and Simeon tightened around him obediently, keenly aware of the sound of his breathing in the small tent as Josué began slowly thrusting between his thighs.
Josué’s breath came hot against his ear, his body curving warm against Simeon’s own. Simeon flexed his thighs when Josué stroked his leg and was rewarded with a pleased, breathless sound. Josué kept moving slowly, his cock hot and silken between Simeon’s thighs, and he flushed when he remembered the sensation of Josué inside him.
He should be grateful he wasn’t forced to suffer that experience tonight, but instead, his body felt on edge, waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. When the tip of Josué’s cock bumped gently into his balls, Simeon realized with sudden dismay that sometime since he’d slipped beneath Josué’s blankets, he’d become hard.
Simeon closed his eyes, his hand clutching at the furs as he forced himself to hold out, ignoring the confused desire throbbing low in his stomach. Josué was still breathing loudly, every breath hot against Simeon’s ear as his hips moved against Simeon’s. Josué’s arm curved around his chest again, holding him tightly—and then Josué’s hips stuttered and he gasped, and sticky heat spread between Simeon’s thighs as Josué’s cock pulsed with release.
Josué relaxed against him and didn’t move for long moments, contentedly sighing against Simeon’s nape.
Determined, Simeon stared at the fur in front of his face, not moving, ignoring the low thudding of his pulse between his legs. Then Josué’s hand slid lower and closed around his cock, and as much a Simeon had told himself that he neither wanted nor needed Josué’s touch, he could help the breathless gasp of relief that escaped him.
He could feel Josué smile against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll always keep my promise when it comes to this.”
The fingers that lovingly ran down his aching shaft left no doubt as to what Josué was referring to.
Josué’s hand explored him leisurely, running slowly up and down the length of him several times before his fingers curled around his cock.
“Feels good in my hand,” Josué whispered against his ear. “Doesn’t it?”
Simeon bit his lip to hold back the moan that wanted to escape, but he knew that he couldn’t deceive Josué—not when Josué could feel how hard he was. Josué stroked him again, moving so slowly that Simeon was trembling with the need to feel that hand speed up and grip him harder, but if anything, Josué slowed down even more.
“This wants to be good for me,” Josué breathed. “And I think, deep down, so do you.”
Simeon stubbornly kept still, fighting the need to push into Josué’s grasp. Josué’s fingers were now moving so slowly it seemed to take him a full minute to go from root to tip. The sound of his own ragged breathing echoed in Simeon’s ears. Up and down, up and down Josué’s hand went, tortuously slow. Every minute seemed to last an eternity until Simeon felt like a man stretched out above a cliff, barely holding on by his fingertips, until at last he couldn’t bear it anymore and pushed forward into Josué’s grasp.
Josué rewarded him by slightly tightening his grip. When his thumb teased gently against the underside of the head, Simeon had to turn his head against his arm to muffle the sounds threatening to spill free
“Hush,” Josué murmured. “Here, I’ll make it better.”
Simeon could feel Josué’s other hand slide over his sticky thighs until Josué’s fingers were coated with his own release. Then they pressed gently against Simeon’s entrance. Just as slowly, they slid inside while Simeon held himself perfectly still, shivering at the thought that only a few feet away, soldiers were settling down to sleep.
Josué’s lips brushed against his shoulder. Then his fingers curled and pressed right there, and this time Simeon had to bite down on his wrist to muffle the sob that wanted to escape. His body was on fire, the pressure inside him as unbearable, and when Josué began stroking him again, Simeon found himself rocking back and forth between the pressure of his fingers and the tight grip of his hand. It took only a few strokes until Simeon found himself overwhelmed, his release spilling onto his own chest while Josué massaged him through it.
“There. Just as I promised.” Josué sounded smug, but Simeon was too exhausted to care when Josué gave his softening cock another admiring tug before he released him.
Panting, Simeon listened as Josué wiped his hand before he handed over the cloth so that Simeon could clean up the mess between his legs and on his chest.
“We’ll rise early tomorrow,” Josué said drowsily. “There’ll be time to wash in the lake. Make sure to wash the cloth, unless you want Bibeau to do it...”
Simeon flushed at that intrusion of reality. Bibeau already knew what Josué used him for—and so did everyone else. Still, at least back in the camp, Josué’s large tent had given him the illusion of privacy. On the march, it was impossible to hide anything that went on.
He’d thought he’d managed to stay quiet—but had he truly?
Simeon gazed at the waxed cloth in front of him, listening to the faint sounds of the camp outside—the crackling of fires burning down, the rustle of men settling down into their bedrolls, a soft, sudden laugh somewhere nearby and a distant nicker of horses.
Then Simeon resolutely closed his eyes, ignoring the arm Josué slung around him until he was certain Josué had fallen asleep. Only then did he allow himself to succumb to the seductive invitation of warm skin and soft furs and finally relax into sleep.
Instead, marching along with the soldiers made him more aware than ever of how small his life had become. For so many days, it had consisted of nothing but Josué's tent and the chains and Josué's demands on him. He owned nothing. Even the clothes he wore had been given to him, offcasts Bibeau must have gathered around the camp.
The mountains that had meant freedom to him once had become strange and distant. Already they were no longer his, and Simeon knew he no longer belonged here. There was no freedom for a man forced to walk after Josué, who was riding a shaggy bay pony, one hand firmly holding a chain attached to Simeon's collar.
Simeon, in turn, had been given the reins of the gray mare who'd fought so bravely for her freedom. Josué had claimed her for his own, as he’d said he would, and she carried his personal supplies.
"You're responsible for her," Josué had said with a small smile. "Don't lose her. Bibeau will have made certain to pack some ginger…"
Simeon had blushed furiously. "It won’t do you much good crossing these mountains. Do you think they'll let you take a break just to punish me?"
"If you're too much of a nuisance, Archambeau will have you shot. I very much don't want that to happen. How about you?"
Still flushed and furious, Simeon had averted his eyes as Josué had laughed again.
"When all this is over, you'll thank me. Until then, you could do worse than learning from the little mare. She did what was right for her herd. She doesn't feel any guilt for carrying my packs or accepting an apple from my hand."
"You also haven't tormented her," Simeon had muttered.
"I'll make it up to you after we've taken Guadago. I'll torment you most pleasurably on a bed of Gabradian silks. And until then, I'll make sure to keep you warm at night."
Josué had used him again, that last night before they'd set out. It had been a slow and unhurried affair, Josué taking him as if that was how it had always been between them, making it last long enough that pleasure loosened Simeon's limbs and he'd found himself instinctively moving with Josué's rhythm, forgetting his resentment for a moment as Josué's hand teased his cock until he moaned loud enough that the guard in front of his tent must have heard.
There had been no flash of Philippe's dark eyes when Josué had wrung his climax out of him, only the awareness of Josué's hot breath against his skin and the unbearable rightness of feeling him right there where every thrust made his limbs tremble with pleasure.
Embarrassed to realize where his thoughts had taken him, Simeon hastily looked up. They were reaching the head of the valley--the first climb awaited. If all went well, they'd make camp in the next valley tonight, which Josué had glimpsed from above, and where the lake would provide water for the ponies.
When he turned his head, he found Josué's eyes resting on him, hot and knowing--although surely he had to be imagining it. There was no way that Josué could know what he was thinking.
*
No, Simeon thought bitterly as he held Josué's gaze with what little of his pride was left to him, the only thing Josué was thinking of right now was no doubt what he would do with Simeon once they made camp.
The gray mare climbed steadily, her hooves finding safe places to step with unfailing instinct. When Simeon turned, he could see the valley they’d crossed spread below them—green grass, hazelnut trees, the musical sound of a spring they’d passed without stopping to water the horses, for Simeon knew that there was a rivulet waiting on the other side of the ridge they were cresting now.
He supposed that was the plan, at least. He and Josué were riding towards the back of the train of men and ponies. It was Archambeau who led them—somewhere before them, out of sight, following one of the men who’d been Simeon’s friends for so many years.
Even though he’d hoped to make his escape with their help, Simeon now found himself grateful that he was too far away to catch a glimpse of who it was. It seemed unbearable that they should see him like this—obediently following Josué, leashed like a dog.
The incline had forced Josué to dismount as well, leading his shaggy bay pony up the narrow path. He seemed remarkably confident that Simeon would do as he was bid, Simeon thought with some bitterness—but then Simeon had proven before that he’d do what he was told to do. Why should it be any different out here in the open, where anyone could observe how well Josué had him tamed?
When they made it to the crest of the ridge that connected the higher peaks rising to both sides of the valley, Josué paused for a moment. There was enough space for Simeon to approach and to stop for a moment by his side.
Before them spread the next valley—just as Simeon had promised. Verdant green beckoned, all the more tempting because it was surrounded by the rocky walls of the mountains that rose around it, shielding them from view. Within an hour, they’d reach the small stream where they could water the ponies, and then it wasn’t far to the bottom of the valley, where the blue lake was waiting.
Simeon pointed at the rocks to their left. “There’s the peak you climbed a few days ago.”
It looked like an easy climb from here, but Simeon knew the view was treacherous. It was possible to approach from this side, but soon you’d find yourself standing before sheer walls that rose high above you, offering no path upwards. It was possible to circle around it, but the going was dangerous—easier to approach from the other side, riding up through the next valley as Josué must have done.
Josué and Allard. The thought made him flinch even now.
What had they talked about? What had Allard said?
Josué had been in a mood when he returned. Had Allard provoked him—and what had Josué told him in turn?
Shame clenched in his stomach at the memory of Allard’s eyes on him, resting naked in Josue’s bed. Allard already knew the worst; there was no need to worry about what had happened during their little excursion.
He obediently followed behind Josué, leashed like a dog, as they crested the ridge and began to descend once more. He was impressed that the soldiers marched quietly for the most part—orders were carried back and forth from front to end by messengers. There were no signal trumpets, no rolling of drums, no shouts. This was indeed a well-disciplined troop of seasoned warriors beyond compare with the soldiers that had been sent against the mountains every now and then when a general remembered their existence.
It meant that the treaty had been the right choice. They’d never have survived war if the full force of the emperor’s wrath had descended on them. Still, that didn’t mean Simeon had to like it.
They halted an hour later when they reached the rivulet coming down from the wall of rock rising to their right. For a while, the water followed the path they were taking, and so the ponies were watered and the men quenched their thirst.
“Drink,” Josué said. He gestured for him to take both of their ponies down to the rivulet.
Simeon was painfully aware of the jingling of the chain as he followed the order, Josué following him down in turn, chain held lightly in his hand.
After the climb, it was good to be able to pour water over his hot face. Simeon drank deeply from his cupped hands while the ponies drank next to him, bridles jingling just like his chains. When he looked up, he found Josué watching him with a small smile on his lips. He held out his canteen and Simeon filled it for him. Josué drank deeply as he watched.
“We’ll be able to see the lake you’ve seen before, once we come around that bend,” Simeon said, nodding at where the path turned around the mountain before them. “Tonight we’ll sleep by its shore.”
Josué’s smile widened. “Is it another glacier lake? Will I have to restrain you from casting yourself into it?”
“It’s spring-fed, not glacier melt.” Simeon found himself flushing for no good reason. “At this time of the year, the temperature will be bearable. You might take a bath to cool your ardor without taking a chill, Lieutenant.”
Josué threw his head back and laughed, eyes gleaming. “I very much doubt that even a glacier pool would be able to accomplish that.”
*
By the time they arrived at the shore of the lake, Simeon was glad that the day’s march had come to an end. It had been a while since he’d walked all day—lately, he’d spent rather a lot of time in Josué’s bed, or chained on Josué’s floor. While it was good to get to stretch his muscles again, it had been exhausting. Moreover, there’d been no chance of escape with the chain on his collar and Josué’s watchful eyes on him.
“There. We’ve made it.” Josué dismounted his bay gelding, handing the reins to Simeon. “Bibeau will see to my tent. You’ll take care of the ponies.”
Simeon nodded at the chain in Josué’s hand. “You’ll have to lead me to the water if you want them to drink.”
Josué looked at him thoughtfully, then laughed and used the chain to pull Simeon close. “I do like you leashed,” he admitted. “But I don’t really need it, do I?”
A moment later, he unfastened the chain. “Go. Water them, brush them down and see that they’re fed before you return. You’re responsible for them. If I observe any neglect, it’s your hide that will feel the consequences.”
Simeon bristled. “I wouldn’t let an animal come to harm just because—”
“Because?” Josué watched, infuriatingly calm and amused, looking as fresh as he’d looked in the morning while Simeon felt exhausted and footsore.
“Because you take pleasure in frustrating me,” Simeon said, biting back what he’d truly wanted to say.
“Ah, I’d never frustrate you,” Josué breathed against his lips. “Not if you’re good. Now hurry, and don’t make me wait. It won’t go well for you if you make me send out Bibeau after you.”
Simeon did as he was bid, obediently following his master’s orders like a well-trained hound. The bitterness in his heart didn’t last long; when he reached the shore of the lake a few minutes later, the water spread out before him as calm as a mirror, reflecting the sky that was slowly turning a soft pink as the sun began to sink behind the mountains.
Reeds swayed in a gently breeze, the water lapping at the shore. Simeon pulled off the boots he’d been given and waded a few steps into the water with the ponies. The water was pleasantly cool against his hot feet, and he leaned against the gray mare as the ponies drank deeply, his eyes on the lake instead of the camp behind him.
He could hear snatches of conversation, fragments of a soldiers’ song, the usual sounds made by men and animals as camp was set up. But once more discipline held—there were no shouts, no trumpet or drums, the men doing their work quietly and efficiently. The men had been chosen well for the mission.
Simeon was grateful for the discipline when he led the ponies to the horse line where soldiers were busy brushing and feeding the pack animals. The men looked up when he approached, and just as he’d expected he was the target of mocking comments and laughter, but the men knew that an arduous journey lay before them and that their officers would be quick to punish any quarrel.
Simeon brushed the ponies down in peace, cleaning their hooves and seeing them provided with a feed bag of oats each before he left them in the care of the sergeant tasked with keeping watch over the horse lines.
The mountains rose above him, beckoning him with the freedom that awaited, but Simeon forced himself to keep his eyes on the grass as he made his way back to where he’d left Josué.
Small fires had sprung up around which the soldiers had gathered to eat. It was not yet cold; the fires were small enough that they’d burn down over night. As long as they remained down in the valleys, the men could sleep out in the open without freezing to death. It would be more difficult once they went deeper into the mountains—not that Josué had to fear the cold, he thought bitterly. The officers had their own pack animals, carrying small tents and furs. Josué would be warm enough—and so would Simeon, if he kept playing the obedient hound and keeping Josué warm at night.
“Off to see the colonel,” Bibeau said in answer to Simeon’s questioning gaze when he finally reached the place where he’d left Josué. “Should be back any moment. Otherwise his dinner will be burnt and he’ll only have himself to blame.”
Simeon eyed the pan in which Bibeau was frying eggs over a small fire he’d built next to Josué’s tent.
“I wouldn’t worry,” he said. “He’ll find a way to blame it on me.”
Bibeau chuckled in appreciation.
Josué appeared before the eggs were burnt. He nodded at Simeon, apparently unsurprised that Simeon had returned faithfully like the good hound he was, even without his leash.
Nevertheless, Simeon’s docility appeared to have put him into a good mood. Josué patted the log on which he was sitting in invitation, and when Simeon joined him cautiously, Josué shared his eggs and bread with him while Bibeau walked off to see a friend, he announced with a wink.
Said friend appeared to be an enterprising soldier who’d brought hook and line, for Bibeau soon had a nicely-sized trout sizzling on the fire for them.
The sun had almost completely set now. From his perch on the log, Simeon watched as the sky slowly turned from purple to dark blue, then slowly fading to black. Stars appeared between the jagged mountaintops, their reflection shining on the water. Simeon’s limbs were heavy, but it was a good weariness—the exhaustion that came from a full day of exercise.
From one of the packs the gray mare had carried, Bibeau had produced a bottle of the local cider. Josué shared that, too, pouring a cup for Simeon as if they were friends sharing a meal, and not what they were in reality—officer and deserter, captor and captive.
Josué treated him better than the men of his own company. Simeon doubted that any of the men sitting around the small, scattered fires were dining on freshly caught trout, eggs and cider tonight.
It was unsettling. With the crisp taste of autumn apples on his tongue and the starlight illuminating the lake, it was all too easy to forget his circumstances. Simeon felt almost content—at least until he moved and became aware of the collar around his neck once more.
Why was Josué treating him so well? There was no reason for him to do it. Josué could have made him fetch his own food from one of the cooking fires like the soldiers. Instead, Josué chose to treat him like this, for reasons Simeon didn’t understand.
When he turned his head, he saw that Josué was watching him with a slight smile. Embarrassed, Simeon had to look away after a moment. It shouldn’t be so easy to let down his guard around him. Just because Josué was occasionally capable of treating him well didn’t mean that he hadn’t done all the other terrible things.
After a moment, Simeon looked up again and found that Josué was still looking at him, looking utterly at ease.
“If you’d treated me like this,” Simeon said quietly, “I would have followed you willingly.”
It wasn’t even a lie. Back then, life had been misery. He’d known nothing else. Starvation, war, the village barely surviving from harvest to harvest—and then the army with its promises of food and clothes and coin that had never materialized. Instead of starving among people he knew, he found himself starving in muddy fields.
If Josué had smiled at him back then, the way Philippe had, wouldn’t he have latched on to that show of kindness too?
Josué’s lips quirked. “Ah, but you forget that back then I didn’t have anything to offer to woo a recalcitrant peasant given to sedition.”
The words stung. Was that what was happening? Had Simeon allowed himself to be wooed by empty gestures?
“A small show of kindness would have been enough,” Simeon said bitterly, because it was true—that was all it would have taken back then. “If you’d been kind to me once or twice, I probably would have let you do whatever you wanted. Fortunately you taught your lessons well. I learned that there’s no such thing as kindness from men like you.”
“Isn’t there?” Josué said mildly, sipping the crisp cider he’d shared with Simeon.
“You’ve told me yourself—this is just a game to you.” Simeon gestured tiredly at the small fire, the clothes he wore, the lake spread out peacefully before them in the starlight. “It’s not kindness if you wield it like a weapon to break me.”
Josué smiled and took away his empty cup. “And yet, if you truly believed I wasn’t capable of kindness, I don’t think you would dare to speak so freely to me.”
*
Josué’s tent was small. Unlike the large tent in the camp that had held a bed, a desk and a table, it was just big enough for a man to sleep in with his gear—or two men, Simeon discovered, if they didn’t mind sleeping pressed against each other.
Josué did indeed not mind that fact. Knowing him, it came as a perk.
Bibeau had spread furs on the ground—sheepskin that would keep out the cold, once they were higher up, with warm, woolen blankets to cover them.
Josué smiled when he saw Simeon survey the tent’s interior and beckoned him towards him. “Take off your clothes,” he said softly. “It will be warmer that way.”
Simeon hesitated for a moment, then followed, as they’d both known he would.
There was just enough space to sit up inside the tent, and wriggling out of his clothes in such a confined space was hardly a seductive display. Nevertheless, once he hastily slid beneath the blankets, he found Josué waiting for him—just as naked as Simeon was, his skin pleasantly hot against his own.
Josué slid a pleased hand up Simeon’s chest. “Better than a stove. You’ll keep me warm in the mountains.”
“I don’t think you’ll need much help with that,” Simeon said bitterly, shivering when Josué’s cock pressed against his thigh, hot as a furnace against his skin.
“You’ll be grateful for it soon enough.” Josué’s hands idly sought out a nipple, circling it until Simeon shivered again, and only then gently pinching it between his fingers.
“Spread your legs,” Josué whispered against his ear. “I want to come between your thighs.”
Embarrassment and relief rushed through Simeon. Would he be able to keep silent, with the men so close and only a thin layer of waxed cloth separating them from the camp? Still, he’d known that there would be a price for sleeping in Josué’s furs, and this was better than the alternative. At least he’d be able to walk tomorrow without any soreness.
As soon as he moved, Josué’s cock slid in between his spread thighs. Josué’s lips brushed against his nape.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you when I’m done,” Josué murmured thickly.
He curved his hand around Simeon’s thigh, and Simeon tightened around him obediently, keenly aware of the sound of his breathing in the small tent as Josué began slowly thrusting between his thighs.
Josué’s breath came hot against his ear, his body curving warm against Simeon’s own. Simeon flexed his thighs when Josué stroked his leg and was rewarded with a pleased, breathless sound. Josué kept moving slowly, his cock hot and silken between Simeon’s thighs, and he flushed when he remembered the sensation of Josué inside him.
He should be grateful he wasn’t forced to suffer that experience tonight, but instead, his body felt on edge, waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. When the tip of Josué’s cock bumped gently into his balls, Simeon realized with sudden dismay that sometime since he’d slipped beneath Josué’s blankets, he’d become hard.
Simeon closed his eyes, his hand clutching at the furs as he forced himself to hold out, ignoring the confused desire throbbing low in his stomach. Josué was still breathing loudly, every breath hot against Simeon’s ear as his hips moved against Simeon’s. Josué’s arm curved around his chest again, holding him tightly—and then Josué’s hips stuttered and he gasped, and sticky heat spread between Simeon’s thighs as Josué’s cock pulsed with release.
Josué relaxed against him and didn’t move for long moments, contentedly sighing against Simeon’s nape.
Determined, Simeon stared at the fur in front of his face, not moving, ignoring the low thudding of his pulse between his legs. Then Josué’s hand slid lower and closed around his cock, and as much a Simeon had told himself that he neither wanted nor needed Josué’s touch, he could help the breathless gasp of relief that escaped him.
He could feel Josué smile against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll always keep my promise when it comes to this.”
The fingers that lovingly ran down his aching shaft left no doubt as to what Josué was referring to.
Josué’s hand explored him leisurely, running slowly up and down the length of him several times before his fingers curled around his cock.
“Feels good in my hand,” Josué whispered against his ear. “Doesn’t it?”
Simeon bit his lip to hold back the moan that wanted to escape, but he knew that he couldn’t deceive Josué—not when Josué could feel how hard he was. Josué stroked him again, moving so slowly that Simeon was trembling with the need to feel that hand speed up and grip him harder, but if anything, Josué slowed down even more.
“This wants to be good for me,” Josué breathed. “And I think, deep down, so do you.”
Simeon stubbornly kept still, fighting the need to push into Josué’s grasp. Josué’s fingers were now moving so slowly it seemed to take him a full minute to go from root to tip. The sound of his own ragged breathing echoed in Simeon’s ears. Up and down, up and down Josué’s hand went, tortuously slow. Every minute seemed to last an eternity until Simeon felt like a man stretched out above a cliff, barely holding on by his fingertips, until at last he couldn’t bear it anymore and pushed forward into Josué’s grasp.
Josué rewarded him by slightly tightening his grip. When his thumb teased gently against the underside of the head, Simeon had to turn his head against his arm to muffle the sounds threatening to spill free
“Hush,” Josué murmured. “Here, I’ll make it better.”
Simeon could feel Josué’s other hand slide over his sticky thighs until Josué’s fingers were coated with his own release. Then they pressed gently against Simeon’s entrance. Just as slowly, they slid inside while Simeon held himself perfectly still, shivering at the thought that only a few feet away, soldiers were settling down to sleep.
Josué’s lips brushed against his shoulder. Then his fingers curled and pressed right there, and this time Simeon had to bite down on his wrist to muffle the sob that wanted to escape. His body was on fire, the pressure inside him as unbearable, and when Josué began stroking him again, Simeon found himself rocking back and forth between the pressure of his fingers and the tight grip of his hand. It took only a few strokes until Simeon found himself overwhelmed, his release spilling onto his own chest while Josué massaged him through it.
“There. Just as I promised.” Josué sounded smug, but Simeon was too exhausted to care when Josué gave his softening cock another admiring tug before he released him.
Panting, Simeon listened as Josué wiped his hand before he handed over the cloth so that Simeon could clean up the mess between his legs and on his chest.
“We’ll rise early tomorrow,” Josué said drowsily. “There’ll be time to wash in the lake. Make sure to wash the cloth, unless you want Bibeau to do it...”
Simeon flushed at that intrusion of reality. Bibeau already knew what Josué used him for—and so did everyone else. Still, at least back in the camp, Josué’s large tent had given him the illusion of privacy. On the march, it was impossible to hide anything that went on.
He’d thought he’d managed to stay quiet—but had he truly?
Simeon gazed at the waxed cloth in front of him, listening to the faint sounds of the camp outside—the crackling of fires burning down, the rustle of men settling down into their bedrolls, a soft, sudden laugh somewhere nearby and a distant nicker of horses.
Then Simeon resolutely closed his eyes, ignoring the arm Josué slung around him until he was certain Josué had fallen asleep. Only then did he allow himself to succumb to the seductive invitation of warm skin and soft furs and finally relax into sleep.
