Caleb worked to get the chains off of Clevon's wrists. He was as gentle as he could be, not wanting to injure him further, but even with the key, the chains had been cruelly tight and the hinges of the manacles poorly maintained. Though the process took moments it felt like moments too long.
A whimper drew his eyes from his promised mate's wrists to his face, and he was surprised to see him raise his head slightly, turning gray eyes robbed of any semblance of focus by heat and exhaustion to look at him. He couldn't imagine what Clevon was seeing, if indeed he was really seeing anything at the moment. Caleb didn't judge himself an especially pleasant sight at the moment, his skin, clothing, and mail armor still marred with the dirt, sweat, and blood of battle, but to the eyes of one in such dire circumstances, he supposed he could look very different.
A single delirious question made its way past Clevon's parched lips, but before Caleb could so much as open his own mouth to reply, the omega fainted dead away. The shift in weight caused the loosened latch of the second manacle to fall open, and consequently, Clevon to fall heavily against his rescuer. Caleb caught him reflexively, then carefully got them both down from the stool, hoping to at least relieve the pressure on the omega's chest.
But that clearly wasn't the only relief Clevon needed; Caleb could feel the fevered heat in every inch of the omega's skin, see the wetness soaked into the velvet between his legs, feel his cock hard steel poking against his thigh. And with Clevon pressed unwittingly against him like this, there was no denying his own body's response to it, as his own arousal strained at his breeches. Clearly Clevon wasn't fit to travel far without his condition being taken care of; Caleb doubted he could even make it to the coach that would soon be outside to take them back to the camp in his current state. No, the first encounter of this heat would have to be there in the keep.
But certainly not in the dungeon. Lifting his promised mate into his arms with an effort, Caleb carried him back upstairs to the main part of the keep. Darius' quarters certainly wouldn't do, but he had passed a guest room that might. Any alpha who scented Clevon was warned off with a glare and a growl, but fortunately, several betas among his men had their wits about them and cleared the way, making his passage easier.
Upon coming to the room, he ordered one of his men to fetch a basin of water and other necessities for washing, as well as a pitcher of milk mixed with honey and whatever food there was that would require little effort or coordination to eat. Then, with the servant sent on his way he left two beta guards outside the closed guest room door, while he carried Clevon to the bed and gently laid him down.
Now in better light, he could get a proper look at his mate to be, realizing that a stranger could have been mistaken for cousins. There were some differences though, of course. Clevon had the broad shoulders- slightly broader than Caleb's own, he noted- and somewhat fairer skin and hair typical of people of his mountain kingdom. His features were strong, for all that they were drawn by heat and suffering, and his frame sturdy. No wonder he had passed for an odd beta for so long. His sturdier than average body for an omega was a good sign, as it increased his chances of bearing strong, healthy children.
But still there was an air of vulnerability about him, one that had nothing to do with heat. A deep unfulfilled longing, one that wasn't driven by their nature, at least not entirely. Clevon had spoken of it, in vague, romanticized terms, in his letters, and Caleb wondered what fueled it. He still did. But there were more pressing concerns at the moment.
As gently as possible, he stripped the gown from his promised mate's body, leaving him naked on the bed. He suspected it was too torn and stained to be repaired, but there was no sense wasting it if he was wrong; he draped the gown over the bench near the room's table. He then began the process of stripping off his own armor- chain mail with plates of bronze bearing his kingdom's seal- as well as boots and anything else that might hinder him in what he'd need to do. It was becoming particularly urgent to him that he get his breeches off, after all; leather was not a forgiving material, and they were becoming uncomfortably tight.
As he undressed himself though, he kept an eye on Clevon, watching for any signs of him stirring from his swoon. Because once he woke, then Caleb would quickly be needed.
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A whimper drew his eyes from his promised mate's wrists to his face, and he was surprised to see him raise his head slightly, turning gray eyes robbed of any semblance of focus by heat and exhaustion to look at him. He couldn't imagine what Clevon was seeing, if indeed he was really seeing anything at the moment. Caleb didn't judge himself an especially pleasant sight at the moment, his skin, clothing, and mail armor still marred with the dirt, sweat, and blood of battle, but to the eyes of one in such dire circumstances, he supposed he could look very different.
A single delirious question made its way past Clevon's parched lips, but before Caleb could so much as open his own mouth to reply, the omega fainted dead away. The shift in weight caused the loosened latch of the second manacle to fall open, and consequently, Clevon to fall heavily against his rescuer. Caleb caught him reflexively, then carefully got them both down from the stool, hoping to at least relieve the pressure on the omega's chest.
But that clearly wasn't the only relief Clevon needed; Caleb could feel the fevered heat in every inch of the omega's skin, see the wetness soaked into the velvet between his legs, feel his cock hard steel poking against his thigh. And with Clevon pressed unwittingly against him like this, there was no denying his own body's response to it, as his own arousal strained at his breeches. Clearly Clevon wasn't fit to travel far without his condition being taken care of; Caleb doubted he could even make it to the coach that would soon be outside to take them back to the camp in his current state. No, the first encounter of this heat would have to be there in the keep.
But certainly not in the dungeon. Lifting his promised mate into his arms with an effort, Caleb carried him back upstairs to the main part of the keep. Darius' quarters certainly wouldn't do, but he had passed a guest room that might. Any alpha who scented Clevon was warned off with a glare and a growl, but fortunately, several betas among his men had their wits about them and cleared the way, making his passage easier.
Upon coming to the room, he ordered one of his men to fetch a basin of water and other necessities for washing, as well as a pitcher of milk mixed with honey and whatever food there was that would require little effort or coordination to eat. Then, with the servant sent on his way he left two beta guards outside the closed guest room door, while he carried Clevon to the bed and gently laid him down.
Now in better light, he could get a proper look at his mate to be, realizing that a stranger could have been mistaken for cousins. There were some differences though, of course. Clevon had the broad shoulders- slightly broader than Caleb's own, he noted- and somewhat fairer skin and hair typical of people of his mountain kingdom. His features were strong, for all that they were drawn by heat and suffering, and his frame sturdy. No wonder he had passed for an odd beta for so long. His sturdier than average body for an omega was a good sign, as it increased his chances of bearing strong, healthy children.
But still there was an air of vulnerability about him, one that had nothing to do with heat. A deep unfulfilled longing, one that wasn't driven by their nature, at least not entirely. Clevon had spoken of it, in vague, romanticized terms, in his letters, and Caleb wondered what fueled it. He still did. But there were more pressing concerns at the moment.
As gently as possible, he stripped the gown from his promised mate's body, leaving him naked on the bed. He suspected it was too torn and stained to be repaired, but there was no sense wasting it if he was wrong; he draped the gown over the bench near the room's table. He then began the process of stripping off his own armor- chain mail with plates of bronze bearing his kingdom's seal- as well as boots and anything else that might hinder him in what he'd need to do. It was becoming particularly urgent to him that he get his breeches off, after all; leather was not a forgiving material, and they were becoming uncomfortably tight.
As he undressed himself though, he kept an eye on Clevon, watching for any signs of him stirring from his swoon. Because once he woke, then Caleb would quickly be needed.