The Book of the Blue House

Earlier that morning, Matteo and Quinton had woken up together and Matteo marveled at the small muscular body in his arms, always deeply tanned with the Royan blood Quinton must have had in him. He looked like a southerner what with his red lips and the gentle plains of his face, his nose aquiline like Matteo’s, only that Matteo could not see as beautiful in himself was beautiful in this young boy sleeping in his arms, even in his sleep looking as serious as he looked sweet. His hair smelled of the lavender he’d washed in and his body smelled of the lovemaking from last night. Matteo had kissed Quinton gently and then, thinking he was done, kissed him again and again until Quinton laughed and turned over drawing Matteo to him with his strong arms.

They had made love in the shower on their way to breakfast, and it had been at that breakfast they had heard Ekkrebeth was returned. Matteo thought this must have meant something, but also thought it had little to do with him. He knew who Ash was, and that he was a mage of great power, but he didn’t think he would have much to say to him and, at any road, he was caught up with Quinton because Quinton was Quinton and also because Quinton was the first sex he’d known for some time.

He still remembered last night, as they had shut the door, and holding turned to kissing and the kissing was more demanding and they had stopped quickly and stood there looking at each other, truly looking. Matt’s awe of Quinton was gone. He felt like they were two boys in love, like he had wanted to feel, but never been able to, and they had come together, not able to get enough of each other, not able to get enough of wrapping their arms and legs together, of simply lying in bed holding each other and burying their faces in each other’s shoulders. Of kissing, oh, the tender firmness of Quint’s lips, the perfection of his kiss, and of his tongue, and the gentleness of his long delicate hands. Was it possible that they’d spent an hour just touching, just running their hands over each other and marveling one at the other.

Matt wanted to give himself to Quinton. The little man was so beautiful and so powerful to him, and when they lay together, Quint’s sex had risen up and it was thick, almost like a club, and thicker at the head, and Matteo had startled Quinton by taking it in his mouth, taking it down to his throat, not having enough of him.

They didn’t turn the golden lamp out, and Matt rejoiced to think that everyone in the rooms around knew that he was giving himself to Quinton, that Conn would know why he had not come and understand that love was here. In the dim light, Matt looked down over Quinton’s shoulders and saw his buttocks, like the most perfect, round brown apples, rolling as Quinton moved between his thighs, saw them flexing as, at last, he opened for Quinton.

Quinton took Matt’s hands in his face while he fucked him. His lips were parted and his eyes feverish, his face went a little pale, and beads of sweat were on his brow, coming from under his hair. He did it deliberately, and Matt took joy in the slamming of their bodies, took joy in his own cries, Quinton made no noise put bit his lip or opened his mouth, closed his eyes or looked into Matt’s and as Quinton fucked him. It hurt. It was as if he could feel him growing bigger and bigger inside him, and Matt contracted himself trying to feel all of the pleasure and all of the ache. He cried with a little sadness when Quint shuddered and he felt him coming inside of him, knew it was over. But while it lasted it lasted forever, no quick coming, but a jutting and jutting and another jutting, a stop, a spurting, a long spurt, a flow that, while Quint still lay exhausted between his legs, still arched over him, flowed out of Matt onto the bedsheets.

Except for lunch, all that day they stayed in Quinton’s room and as the evening came, and after they had seen Derek walking off with Conn, telling him they needed to talk, Quinton asked, “Are you going to be one of us now? Now you can have your novice’s robe.”

“What is the difference between me saying yes and me saying no and becoming your lover?”

And then Matt said, “That was forward. You may not even want me like that. Maybe you just wanted me for today. That was forward of me.”

Matt turned around as if to get out of bed and Quint caught his arm in his strong grip.

“I do want you like that. Ninny,” he added. “But if we’re going to be lovers and you’re not going to be a Blue, we’re going to have some hard conversations, rather like the ones I suspect Derek and Conn are having. If you take the Blue Robe I will be your instructor and I will bring you into my world, and we will share it together, and I really think that’s best.”

“I came to be a Blue,” Matt said. He could still feel Quinton throbbing inside of him in a deep place he had forgotten until last night. “I was… tired of being touched and didn’t think I’d ever want a man to touch me again. And now you have and I feel opened again. I came to be a Blue. I will take the Blue.”