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Authors: Denise Rossetti
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Fort realized he must have been staring into space for some minutes. “Here.” A glass of brandy was thrust into his hand and he downed it in two long swallows, gasping as the fiery liquor coursed down his throat.
“Better?”
He nodded. Griff had slid an arm around his waist and snugged himself right under Fort’s shoulder, propping him up. The whole side of his body, from neck to knee, felt overheated.
41
Denise Rossetti
Absently, he ruffled the younger man’s hair and disengaged himself. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. But I…ah…don’t have the harp. I’d better go.” Before I do something you ’ ll enjoy and I ’ ll regret .
But as he turned, a vise of pain gripped the back of his thigh. Grunting a curse, he reached out blindly, gripping the doorframe so hard the wood creaked.
“Fort, you don’t—” Griff broke off. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Cramp,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Old wound.”
“Twister’s balls! Here, lean on me.”
Somehow, Griff maneuvered him to the bed, where he fell facedown like a toppled tree. The tumbler grabbed one boot and wrestled it off.
Fort clamped a hand over the back of his bad thigh, feeling the muscles standing proud, hard as iron. “What the hell…do you think…you’re doing?” he growled.
“Helping you,” panted Griff, hauling off the second boot. “Roll over.”
“It…passes…eventually. Leave it.”
“No. Roll over !” Hard hands pushed at his good hip and he rolled enough for Griff to tug at the laces of his trews.
“Don’t.” He gripped Griff’s wrist and saw the tumbler flinch. Carefully, he loosened his fingers, breathing heavily through his nose.
“Gods, man, your precious virtue’s safe! Acrobats get muscle cramps all the time. I know what to do, all right?” Griff grabbed the waistband of Fort’s trews and paused.
“But if you don’t trust me…”
42
Strongman
Chapter Six
Hssrda (sing . Hssrdan) :
Hybrid race , saurian - human . Most authorities believe the Hssrda were created as slave -
soldiers by the Firsters , using the magical craft referred to in the ancient texts as “ gene -
splicing ”. (See Firsters — Magic) However , popular legend recalls a single individual , the so -
called “ Mad Mage ”. (See Ballads , Traditional) .
Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia , compiled by Miriliel the Burnished .
By way of an answer, Fort rolled onto his stomach and raised his hips, biting his lip against the pain. Griff ripped his trews off and tossed them aside.
The silence was absolute.
“Fuck,” whispered Griff, almost reverentially. “How did—?”
Well, he hadn’t thought the sight of his beautiful ass would be the thing to render the other man speechless. “Hssrdan claw.”
Griff ran hard, warm palms up his calf and Fort tensed. “Relax if you can,” said the tumbler, and Fort would have laughed if he didn’t hurt so much.
“Filthy,” he mumbled. “Got…infected.” Griff climbed off the bed. A drawer slid open and shut and the mattress dipped as he returned, positioning himself between Fort’s legs. His fingers now slick with oil, the tumbler dug in with strong thumbs, under the curve of Fort’s buttocks, where the scar began. Agony rang bright, merciless bells down every nerve. “Fuck!”
“Sorry, love,” said Griff, and Fort did laugh then.
The next twenty minutes were exceedingly unpleasant. Griff was skilled, absolutely merciless and much, much stronger than Fort had imagined. As he probed and worked the scar tissue, the iron-hard ball of pain unraveled until it was no more than a trembling in the muscles, a residual weakness.
Griff climbed off the bed and returned to kneel by Fort’s head.
Fort opened one eye and grunted.
“Drink up.” Griff shoved a full glass of brandy in his hand. “You deserve it. Do you know you didn’t make a sound?”
“Should go,” mumbled Fort, the brandy warming his stomach.
Griff’s hands skimmed
“Better?”
He nodded. Griff had slid an arm around his waist and snugged himself right under Fort’s shoulder, propping him up. The whole side of his body, from neck to knee, felt overheated.
41
Denise Rossetti
Absently, he ruffled the younger man’s hair and disengaged himself. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. But I…ah…don’t have the harp. I’d better go.” Before I do something you ’ ll enjoy and I ’ ll regret .
But as he turned, a vise of pain gripped the back of his thigh. Grunting a curse, he reached out blindly, gripping the doorframe so hard the wood creaked.
“Fort, you don’t—” Griff broke off. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“Cramp,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Old wound.”
“Twister’s balls! Here, lean on me.”
Somehow, Griff maneuvered him to the bed, where he fell facedown like a toppled tree. The tumbler grabbed one boot and wrestled it off.
Fort clamped a hand over the back of his bad thigh, feeling the muscles standing proud, hard as iron. “What the hell…do you think…you’re doing?” he growled.
“Helping you,” panted Griff, hauling off the second boot. “Roll over.”
“It…passes…eventually. Leave it.”
“No. Roll over !” Hard hands pushed at his good hip and he rolled enough for Griff to tug at the laces of his trews.
“Don’t.” He gripped Griff’s wrist and saw the tumbler flinch. Carefully, he loosened his fingers, breathing heavily through his nose.
“Gods, man, your precious virtue’s safe! Acrobats get muscle cramps all the time. I know what to do, all right?” Griff grabbed the waistband of Fort’s trews and paused.
“But if you don’t trust me…”
42
Strongman
Chapter Six
Hssrda (sing . Hssrdan) :
Hybrid race , saurian - human . Most authorities believe the Hssrda were created as slave -
soldiers by the Firsters , using the magical craft referred to in the ancient texts as “ gene -
splicing ”. (See Firsters — Magic) However , popular legend recalls a single individual , the so -
called “ Mad Mage ”. (See Ballads , Traditional) .
Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia , compiled by Miriliel the Burnished .
By way of an answer, Fort rolled onto his stomach and raised his hips, biting his lip against the pain. Griff ripped his trews off and tossed them aside.
The silence was absolute.
“Fuck,” whispered Griff, almost reverentially. “How did—?”
Well, he hadn’t thought the sight of his beautiful ass would be the thing to render the other man speechless. “Hssrdan claw.”
Griff ran hard, warm palms up his calf and Fort tensed. “Relax if you can,” said the tumbler, and Fort would have laughed if he didn’t hurt so much.
“Filthy,” he mumbled. “Got…infected.” Griff climbed off the bed. A drawer slid open and shut and the mattress dipped as he returned, positioning himself between Fort’s legs. His fingers now slick with oil, the tumbler dug in with strong thumbs, under the curve of Fort’s buttocks, where the scar began. Agony rang bright, merciless bells down every nerve. “Fuck!”
“Sorry, love,” said Griff, and Fort did laugh then.
The next twenty minutes were exceedingly unpleasant. Griff was skilled, absolutely merciless and much, much stronger than Fort had imagined. As he probed and worked the scar tissue, the iron-hard ball of pain unraveled until it was no more than a trembling in the muscles, a residual weakness.
Griff climbed off the bed and returned to kneel by Fort’s head.
Fort opened one eye and grunted.
“Drink up.” Griff shoved a full glass of brandy in his hand. “You deserve it. Do you know you didn’t make a sound?”
“Should go,” mumbled Fort, the brandy warming his stomach.
Griff’s hands skimmed
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