Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 285 of 619

The wine ran low near midnight. Men drifted off to their rooms in twos, laughing, leaning on each other. Ajax stayed by the hearth until the hall emptied. Tucker was the last to rise. He had hired on until the walls were finished, then stayed past his oath, and now he ran the port trade for Black Oak. He caught Ajax's eye across the dying fire and tipped his head toward the door. "My room," Tucker said. "You know the way." Ajax followed him down the hall. Tucker's door stood open, a single candle lit inside. He turned as Ajax stepped through and pushed it shut with his boot. "You've been watching me all night," Tucker said. He was smiling, but his voice had lost its easy drawl. "Figured I'd stop waiting." He crossed the room and kissed him. Ajax's breath caught. Tucker's hand slid over his bare chest, fingers combing through the hair there, and Ajax pressed back into it. The gold chains between them clicked together. "You taste like that berry pie," Tucker murmured against his mouth. "You taste like half the wine in the hall," Ajax said. Tucker laughed and backed him toward the wall. Ajax's shoulders met a rough support beam. Tucker leaned into him, one hand braced above his head. His mustache brushed Ajax's jaw. Ajax felt the man's chest against his own, the warmth of it, the steady thud of his heart. He gripped Tucker's arm and held him there. They kissed against the beam a long while. The candle burned down. Somewhere past the walls the sea worked at the new breakwater, and it held. Ajax thought of nothing but the man in his arms. No wall to raise. No rider on the road. No name left to cross off a list. He woke at shirtless at gray dawn in Tucker's big arms. His head rested on the man's bare chest. Tucker breathed slow and even, still asleep, one hand loose on Ajax's back. The candle had guttered out. Ajax lay still and studied the low ceiling. He had built this place stone by stone. He had bound twelve men to it with chains and touches and a shared table. He had thought that was enough to hold them. Now he saw the trouble in it. Tucker had stayed past his oath because he wanted to. So had the others. But wanting was not the same as sworn. If a richer man came through the port with more gold, what held Tucker then? A night by the fire? A kiss? Ajax pulled on his loincloth and stood at the window. The brotherhood was built. The walls were whole. But a house of willing men could still walk out the gate. He needed more than their wanting. He needed a bond they could not break come spring.