“Please, do not start with the love is childish thing. If love was childish and fake than you wouldn’t have been half as fucking traumatized by everything that happened in the City.”
That was so irrefutable it actually stung. “Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, but honestly. You have to make everything so complicated.”
“Me? I wish it was simple.”
“But it’s not, so why make it harder?” Kajja insisted. “If Innan wanted me and I wanted them, then I’d suggest that once we did whatever we’re about to do, I could go back to their cave with them for a while, and if that was good, then great. And if not, maybe I’d find a house in the nearest settlement and study to be a bard, because they said I’d make a great one, and we’d meet up as often as we wanted to. Or some other thing I haven’t even thought of because everything could be completely different in six moons.”
That’s what Hendrik thought. Well, okay, it was a lot more than Hendrik thought, but it proved his point: There was no life to be had, no expectations to be met, and no point dreaming too much. He nodded, watching Dagan and Innan swing each other around by the hands, laughing. “Exactly,” he said.
“What? Are you drunk again?”
“No.” He shot her another look. “I was just thinking pretty much what you said: That there’s no choice to make and no option to choose except the next one, right now.”
“Oh. Well, yes. I guess you’re right then.” A slight pause. “We are talking about you and Dagan, right?”
“Yes, Kajja. We are.” He rolled his eyes. “And not a word, if you please. For all I know he’s planning on going back to rotating beds as soon as my shine wears off.”
After he said it, he hated the way it sounded. Why, though? It could be the truth, for all he knew.
Nothing lasted forever. Least of all romance.
For a long moment, Kajja didn’t reply. Possibly because she was stuffing the last of her meal into her mouth and chewing it. But finally she said, “You really think he’d do that?”
“The problem with liking someone for being hard to pin down, as it turns out, is that they’re hard to pin down.”
The full moon was high in the sky when Dagan came to pull him towards the music. Flyaway dark hairs clung to the damp skin of his forehead and neck, and his hands were hot as they slid up Hendrik’s sleeves and over his shoulders. “Try a dance?”
“Why, when watching you is so much more fun?”
“You really can’t?” Dagan asked.
Hendrik shook his head. “I’ll let you teach me. Just not in front of all these people.”
Dagan went up on his toes, and Hendrik leaned in to kiss him. Dagan’s arms tightened around his neck, and Hendrik dipped low, scooped his arms around his backside, and lifted him up. Dagan wrapped his legs around Hendrik’s middle, laughing so suddenly he had to break the kiss. “That’s hot,” he said.
“I was hoping you’d think so.” The weight of him was reassuring and exciting at the same time, slight but solid, and his scent was intoxicating: clean sweat, lavender, and berry juice.
They kissed again, Dagan squeezing with those magnificent thighs. This time, Hendrik closed it off with a nibble at Dagan’s lip, then pulled at it a little before letting it go. “I’ll wait here and watch. I’m enjoying myself. I promise.”
This time Dagan’s kisses were hungrier. “I don’t want to use all my energy dancing,” he mumbled into Hen’s lips. “Maybe it’s time for bed?”
“If you’re sure. You look happy out there.”
“I’m sure I look even happier right here.” Dagan brushed his lips against Hendrik’s, bit at his bottom one, and then he said. “Let’s go.”
Hendrik hefted Dagan up so he could lock his arms tighter beneath his ass and started walking.
In the little house at the edge of the market, they eagerly stripped each other and cleaned themselves up, washing away the day of work and night of revelry. Hendrik paused in his own ablutions, glancing sideways at Dagan and saying, “Please tell me—”
Dagan, gloriously naked, muscles beneath glistening skin flexing as he applied a washcloth to his underarm, smiled sweetly. “Oh, if you want to get fucked, I’m happy to oblige, yes.”
“Fuck, yes.” Time to rinse everything out then. Worth it. “I—it’s been a while, though, so.”
“I’ll be gentle.” At first, Dagan’s eyes were laughing, but as he set aside his cloth and threw his braid over his shoulder, they grew serious again. Almost curious. “Somehow, I always want to be gentle with you. It’s strange, really, because I always think I want to pin you down and mercilessly rail you. And I do. Most ardently. But…it’s different. And I love it.”
Hendrik had often thought the same thing during his long explorations of Dagan’s compact and exquisite body. The idea that Dagan felt it too, without prompting, warmed him from the inside out.
When Hen entered the bedroom, Dagan sat on the bed letting down his hair, finger-combing it over his shoulder. The full moonlight cast him in silver when gold was normally his color: golden-honey eyes, golden-brown skin. Hen waited for him to finish, watching with even more fascination than he had the dancing. When Dagan threw his hair over his shoulder, he had a knowing look in his eyes that said he knew perfectly well that Hendrik was enjoying him.
Hendrik crawled into bed, over Dagan’s lap, forcing him to scoot back toward the wall and make room. Once Dagan reached the pillows, Hen dipped low for a kiss and propped himself up with one hand while using the other to brush at Dagan’s belly between them. They came together quickly after that, pressing front-to-front, kisses deep and delicious with juice and ale.
Before long, a kind of desperation gripped Hen, making his kisses sharper and hungrier. Dagan looked him in the eye and put both hands in his hair, holding his head tight. “My beautiful, brooding boy,” he cooed in that perfect, husky voice. “Let me see if I can help you stop thinking for a while.”
“Already have,” Hendrik admitted.
Dagan kissed him once more, then sat up and rolled Hendrik over, flipping their positions elegantly. With one knee, he pushed between Hen’s thighs and lowered onto him, rocking his hips for a little thrill. He leaned in for a kiss, but it was quick, full of promise. When he pulled back, he asked, “Would you prefer to be told precisely what to do, or would you rather—”
“That,” Hen interrupted. To not have to think about choosing anything? That was the night he wanted. Possibly even needed? “I want that.”
“If you change your mind, just let me know, sweetheart.” As quickly as he’d been on him, Dagan sat up and sat back on his heels. His prick stood bobbing before his belly, looking delicious and eager, but he hardly seemed to notice. His hair cascaded over either shoulder, wavy from the braid and dark against his skin. “In the meantime, take off your clothes and kneel on the bed, and make it quick.”
With a face-splitting grin, Hendrik rushed to obey. He got up on his knees, but Dagan gestured that he should turn around, facing the wall rather than him. Fuck, he had no idea why, but that was hot. Again, he obeyed. Dagan came forward, wrapped his arms about Hendrik’s waist, and kissed the nape of his neck. His warm, swollen prick brushed Hendrik’s ass cheek, and Hen arched into it.
Dagan laughed, low and hot against his spine. His hands flattened against Hendrik’s belly. Maddeningly slowly, one moved upward and the other down. “Do you like little surprises? Or shall I walk you through things step by step?”
Hen didn’t even have to think about it. “Surprise me.”
