He started to shake when he pushed himself up into a sitting position which sent fresh agony through him. His left wrist felt wet on one side, and it burned when he tried again to wiggle a hand free. Blood was smeared on one hip and thigh, and he caught a spot of red on the hardwood floor.
Gautier had wiped blood from the buckle.
A sob tore free as he turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see it even though he could feel cuts all over him. He needed the physician…except…he couldn’t go into the hall like that to get the physician.
He couldn’t imagine going to Olivier or anyone. How could he admit what had just happened or show them the wounds? The thought of anyone seeing him like that made his gut twist. Would they even believe him if he said Gautier was his lover for two years? Why would his lover, and a man who’d been friends with the family for years, flip on him?
He would deny it.
What if he had been guilty of rape even though Father and no one else in their court had believed the story years ago?
He could come back. Aleric had to get free and lock his doors. His dagger was in its sheath on top of his chest of drawers. Getting up wasn’t easy since his legs wouldn’t stop trembling, and every movement pulled on the cuts.
“Fuck,” he swore through gritted teeth as he steadied himself on his feet. His hip throbbed where the metal had landed.
If Gautier decided he wasn't done yet…he hurried to the chest of drawers and used his chin to knock his dagger to the floor. He sat with a wince, managed to release it from the sheath, positioned it, and sawed at the rope while hoping it didn’t slip and cut him.
The rope loosened, and he was free to get on his knees and take the pressure off of his rear. After he took a deep breath, he made himself stand. Gripping the dagger, he hurried into his empty sitting room to lock the door.
With his bedroom door also locked, he went into the privy room, although he could already guess what he looked like. He tapped a lantern and dared to turn in front of the looking glass so he could properly see himself.
His ass, thighs, and back were striped and cut. A couple from the buckle were on his upper arm and back. The scalloped metal had hit his rear and thighs more, and blood had beaded on the cuts. He knew the red stripes from the leather lashing against him would turn into wicked bruises by the next morning, and his hip was bleeding.
His wrists had raw spots and little smears of blood. How could he show that to the physician? He couldn’t fathom going to Father either and explaining that a longtime friend, who he’d secretly been fucking for two years, had done it.
It was Aleric’s fault. He never should have gotten with an older man. Every word and “I love you” from Gautier had been a lie. He’d been a thing to use for sex. For the past two years, Aleric had been compliant in bed because their kinks had always aligned.
He’d never said no, and it was clear Gautier didn’t like that word. Perhaps King Alton’s cousin, Matthew, had dared to utter that word once.
***
He’d woken up with a sore backside before after a fun night. He’d never woken up on his stomach with cuts and brutal bruises blossoming all over him. He’d never had to carefully sponge at loose bandages to loosen the dried blood and take care of himself while trying not to cry.
Somehow, he had to go downstairs and face Gautier. Considering how he’d walked out, their relationship was over. A heavy, dreadful feeling had settled in his gut. It didn’t vanish when he balled up the bloody bandages and dropped them down the privy chute so a servant wouldn’t find them. The feeling didn’t lessen when he dabbed at himself with a damp cloth because the nasty cut right on his hip bone had opened up despite trying to lay so he wasn’t putting pressure on it. It hurtthe worst because the entirety of his hipbone was bruised from the buckle landing twice.
Whenever two people are engaging in anything sexual, kinky or not, if one wants to stop, with or without a safe word, the other is supposed to immediately stop. Despite that, Aleric couldn’t shake the sensation that he was in the wrong. If he’d declined in the sitting room before they got into anything, maybe nothing would have happened. If he hadn’t said it partway through the action, he wouldn’t have angered Gautier.
He wouldn’t be in so much pain and trying to take care of himself.
Even though a man should never beat his lover, he still kept thinking of ways he could have avoided everything while he carefully dressed. If he had, he probably would have woken up with Gautier in his bed. Everything would be fine.
Unless he said no in the future…He might as well have been lying with a snake that would only lash out once angered. It wasn’t a matter ofif.It was a matter ofwhen.
At breakfast, he was stiff in his chair while he tried to act normal, although he could barely bring himself to look at Father or anyone in the Hall. He couldn’t help but think that somehow, everyone knew that he’d been beaten and left on the floor like a worthless piece of shit. They might even think it was his fault. Who had agreed to keep the relationship a secret for so long? Aleric.
He hadn’t told Clementine in the past two years. No one knew. Admitting the truth would sound like a wild story pulled from the air. They might think he was using it to cover up something else. Maybe he’d snuck out and gone to a sleazy whorehouse like an idiot.
The sons of lords aren’t beaten in their bedrooms. They don’t fuck family friends in secret. Or if they do, perhaps something is wrong with them. If he told Father, Gautier would flatly deny itall. Why on Ymir’s dirt would he ever hurt anyone, especially the son of his best friend?
Everyone would say it didn’t seem like they’d been together.
While his mind chased itself in circles with various ways he could be blamed, he caught a glimpse of Gautier entering, and the bite of toast in his mouth turned to paste as he stared at his plate. He should tell Father and admit everything no matter how crazy it sounded.
He should have said something when Gautier choked him in the tower. A glimpse of his real colors had shown that day, and Aleric had stupidly buried his head in the sand.
The rape accusation was probably true. Gautier was a foul man masquerading as one who’d been wrongfully accused by a jealous lover. The King’s cousin had probably said no or they’d argued enough to get Gautier’s rage up. He’d probably been nagged about the rape kink, and after continued refusal, Gautier had done what he wanted.
He liked submissives, and not just men willing to do kinky activities. He wanted men who’d always do what they were told. Guys who wouldn’t stick to their own opinions and morals to avoid an argument.
