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open, admitting a gust of cool air and savory smells, followed by Griff’s trim backside, clad in skintight, spangled leggings.
    The tumbler spun around, grinning, his hands full of covered dishes. Fort’s problem returned with a vengeance.
    26

    Strongman

Chapter Four
    The Straight Church — Religion — Moral Teachings :
    Of the Ten Nations of Phoenix , only the Brethren of the Straight Church take a moral standard on manlove , castigating it as an evil Crookedness befouling the Straight Way ,
    abhorrent in the eyes of their Ruler God . No figures are available , but there is evidence that in the last fifty years , the Ecclesiastical Court of the Straight Church has had an estimated twenty men hung for the crime of sodomy .
    Outside the Straight Church , such relationships are not a matter for remark .
    Excerpt from the Great Encyclopedia , compiled by Miriliel the Burnished .

    Griff patted his mouth with the damp cloth Fort handed him, careful not to get grease on his costume. He hadn’t taken the time to change after the performance.
    Sourly, Fort reflected the outfit had obviously been designed to showcase and flaunt the body, with a standing collar to frame the tumbler’s lively face, the smooth, strong muscles of his shoulders and arms exposed by the scooped-neck, sleeveless vest.
    Golden-brown hair curled rakishly over his brow, tumbled over the collar. It needed cutting. A light mat of hair furred his chest and golden down dusted his forearms, glinting in the lamplight.
    The tights were so positively, gloriously indecent, Fort had to keep dragging his gaze back to Griff’s knowing eyes. He could swear the other man was laughing at him, completely unabashed by the outline of a more-than-adequate cock stretching the knit fabric, clamped against his flat belly by the material.
    But his face was almost worse, because he was still wearing stage makeup, his eyes dark and mysterious, the lashes as thick as a girl’s, bold slanting eyebrows giving him a vaguely satanic air. Together with killer cheekbones and a gloss on his lips, the effect was ironically devilish. Deliciously, disturbingly so.
    “So the deep-fish pie was all right?” inquired Griff politely. “I wasn’t sure, but Ember loves me, so I begged for noodle cakes as well.”
    Fort frowned from where he sat on the edge of the bed, conscious of the shaving lather drying on his face. He’d bolted the food and made them a cup of hot roberry to finish the meal, keen to get rid of Griff’s confusing presence. He tightened his grip on the razor. Nothing like a cutting edge to focus the mind and keep the hand steady. “She loves you?”
    “Sure.” Griff grinned. “All women love me. It’s part of my peculiar charm.” He blew on his roberry.
    “Peculiar is right,” grunted Fort, grimacing as he scraped. “Who’s Ember?”
    27

    Denise Rossetti
    “The glass-blower. Makes all sorts of baubles. And she can cook.” Griff sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Immediately, it tumbled back over his forehead. “She’s a lovely woman, but so sad. And she won’t tell me why.”
    “Some people actually have dignity, reserve.” Fort pulled the skin of his cheek taut.
    “You wouldn’t understand that.” The razor whispered over it, leaving a chill in its wake.
    “Mmm. But everyone needs someone to love.” Griff drained his cup.
    Fort laid down the razor. “To fuck, you mean.”
    “That too.” Griff examined his features so boldly, a wave of heat rolled through Fort’s belly, washing over his aching cock, his balls lifting in automatic response. “You missed a bit.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    “Here, hold these. I’ll get it.” Griff thrust the shaving brush into Fort’s left hand and the soap dish into his right. “Lean back a bit.” He raised a knee and planted it on the bed between Fort’s thighs.
    “Griff— oompf !” The tumbler pushed Fort’s chest with the heel of his hand, and to his own bemusement, Fort felt his shoulders hit