“I’ll have you. All of you,” Yorick whispered.

Nezael meant to bend low and kiss him, but then his gaze caught the flurry of white outside. He gasped against Yorick’s lips instead, and threw himself off the couch as fast as he could. He would have fallen outright if Yorick hadn’t caught him.

“It’s already snowing?” Nezael whispered.

Yorick glanced out the window. It had already coated the grass and more and more fell, looking like curtains from the sky. “It’s not safe to go back now,” Yorick said quickly. “You can stay.”

Nezael’s panic calmed, a little realization setting in, and he hid the smile on his lips with his hand. Maybe this was preferable. Yorick saw the smile anyway, understood the intent of it, but before he could draw Nezael in to go back to what was so rudely interrupted, Nezael went to the door.

“One moment—I want to send a message.”

The bird couldn’t be far when magic kept it afloat. Nezael even felt it, a little twinkle in the snowstorm. He gently opened the door, Yorick watching with more curiosity than anything else, and Nezael drew his hand into the cold. There was a rattle of bones, the slightest hum of a song, and the skeleton bird landed on his finger, no worse for wear. Nezael pulled it close, gently petting its head with his finger to ignite more magic inside its tiny body, and pressed his lips to the cold bones.

“Bellamy, I have adequate shelter. Do not worry for me,” he whispered, magic ghosting across his words like a melody. “I will return when the snow ceases. I promise.” He hated adding the last part, knowing Yorick was listening, but he feared Bellamy worrying too much without it.

The bird shuffled unseen feathers, Nezael’s magic voice coiling into the empty space in its ribcage, and Nezael kissed its head before he let it fly for its home in the tower. Magic would protect it, this he knew, and very shortly, Nezael lost sight of it in the squall.

Snow spilled inside around him until Yorick saw sense and drew Nezael away to close the door. It was all Nezael could do to toss his worries away and it helped when he turned to take in Yorick in his entirety.

His strong shoulders, his soft chest, and the muscles lining his arms and legs. Yorick was looking at Nezael the same; desire and fire lit up in his eyes. One of them had to start. Nezael pulled him in, kissing him deeply, and before he knew it, his back was on the nearest flat surface—the table, he distantly realized but perhaps it never mattered—and he’d wrapped his legs tightly around Yorick, holding him there as closely as he could until the only option Nezael had was to come up for air. And even then, Nezael wasn’t sure if he’d do it if it meant pulling away from Yorick.

~

It grew dark, only the fire in the hearth providing light at all, and even it dulled while Nezael acquainted himself with every inch of Yorick’s body and the way it reacted to him. What made it shiver, what made the soft moans on Yorick’s lip turn to song, and then all the tastes therein. Yorick had done the same with Nezael, learning very quickly what made him tremble, cry out in pleasure, and how eagerly Nezael wanted to take him in entirely. Over and over again until they were both breathless upon the bed, tangled in the sheets. The first touch had sent all sensations spilling forth—desire made apparent and manifested in their roaming hands and mouths—and Nezael wished he’d been bolder long before now. The real Yorick was so much better than all the teasing dreams. The heat of his body was all encompassing, the way the weight of it pushed up against Nezael’s own body so true and right each time, and nothing could replicate it but reality.

He was breathless again when Yorick took himself away from the bed. The man’s skin glistened around the teeth shaped marks Nezael had left for him. The same peppered Nezael’s own body and this time, he wouldn’t have to hastily hide them for fear of his lord seeing them. The dim light illuminated the sheen of Yorick’s body, the golden hues all over, and he bent to retrieve the pants he’d long since discarded. A shame. Nezael rested his head on the pillow, watching as Yorick pulled them on before heading over to throw more wood into the fire.

Nezael didn’t want to move yet, even as the room bloomed in new light. His legs were still trembling too much from all the excitement and moving meant leaving the bed. Maybe if he looked despondent enough at the loss of his sleeping partner, Yorick would come back for yet another round.

Yorick turned and caught Nezael’s gaze with a smile. “Thought you’d fallen asleep.” He returned to the bed and bent to steal a kiss.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Nezael thought about it and rolled over to prop himself up on his elbows. “Is it cheating if I say for you?” he asked and Yorick laughed, shaking his head. “I suppose I am as long as it means afterward you come back to bed. I don’t think you’re finished with me yet.”

It earned Nezael another kiss and Nezael drank it in, this time biting Yorick’s lip when he dared to move away.

As Yorick fussed about in the kitchen, likely searching for something easy to make, Nezael noticed the forlorn cinnamon rolls on the counter.

“What about the rolls?” Nezael asked.

“I was hoping to have some tomorrow,” Yorick admitted. “Besides, I don’t think I could handle watching you eat them again right now.” He winked at Nezael, prompting a sudden laugh out of Nezael’s throat. When he turned away again, he brought out bowls alongside a sealed jar of what looked like soup.

“This won’t take too long.” Yorick glanced back. “Think you can handle the wait?”

Nezael rolled his eyes, waving his hand, and the kitchen lit up from the flame on the stove. As Yorick worked, Nezael stretched himself on the bed now cooling without both of them there. Yorick had thrown his clothes this way and that, but Nezael had been buried in complete delight—from Yorick’s hot, breathy kisses starting at his neck and working their way lower with each article of clothing discarded—he hadn’t paid attention to where they’d fallen. All he had was the necklace his lord had given him. Cool to the touch from protective magic rushing through the links. A little too secure to be ripped off, but Yorick had happily kissed around it like it wasn’t there.

However, it wouldn’t be proper to eat with only a necklace. Yorick had found his own pants, so there had to be something within arm’s reach.

What Nezael found was Yorick’s tunic and figured it would do just as well. He pulled it on, carefully moving to the edge of the bed. It dropped past his thighs. Decent enough.

“Hey.” Yorick was laughing from the kitchen. “That’s my shirt!”

Nezael teased him by pressing it flat against himself. “You took it upon yourself to lose my clothes like a beast,” he said and Yorick shook his head, exasperated. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself. Besides, you’ll only tear them off again should I find them.” He stood, glad his legs didn’t fold from feeling like they were made of jelly, and softly stepped across cabin to the only other thing warm inside—Yorick himself.

“Can I help?” Nezael asked, draping his arms across Yorick.

“I know what your help is,” Yorick teased, edging him back before he could get his hands any lower. “You’ll just distract me with it.” The soup was already simmering over the flame and once he had it covered with a lid, he turned to press a kiss to Nezael’s cheek. His gaze went down to Nezael’s neck. “Did you always have this necklace? I don’t recall your neck being so cold when I kissed it before.”

Nezael touched it, feeling the chill anew, and he shrugged. “A recent gift to my lord before he slept,” he said. “There’s some magic on it. I think it’s to protect me.”

“Not from me, I hope.”

“Well, you’ve touched me just about everywhere and nothing’s happened, so I think you’re safe.” Nezael leaned on the counter, trying to resist dragging Yorick back to bed.

“How long have you been with your lord, anyway?” Yorick asked as he went searching for some bread in the other cupboards. The loaf he pulled out smelled like cinnamon, but not as much as the rolls did.

“I’m not sure,” Nezael answered. “I never really kept track of the years until recently. Magic does funny things to aging anyway.” He folded his arms and tried to push down the shudder working its way up his legs. The floor was cold. “How’d you end up here?”

Yorick shrugged and placed the bread in the slot below the stove to warm it up. “My da was a butcher and my ma was a baker. I didn’t want to do much of either, so since I had a bunch of younger siblings who could carry on the name, I just started to wander.” He pulled away the lid from the pot and tasted a spoonful. “I always felt listless no matter where I went until I came here.” He smiled, glancing at Nezael. “It’s a quiet life, but I’m starting to like it this way.”

Nezael returned the smile. “Good. I’d hate for you to wander away now.”

Yorick chuckled. “You could come with, you know. Once you learn all you need to from your lord, you could come see more of the world with me.”

It wouldn’t work like that in the least, but Nezael kept reality to himself. “Maybe,” he whispered, but seeing the way Yorick frowned, he must have heard Nezael’s unease. Nezael sighed and shook his head. “Let’s not ruin the night,” he whispered. “I want to live in the present. With you.”

“I’d like that,” Yorick said softly.

Dinner was a short reprieve before Nezael was rolling across the bed with Yorick pressed so close to him, tasting the life on his lips. The rest of the world didn’t matter here, only what they could do for one another in the dark. It simply felt like it was meant to be, the ease at which they acclimated to one another and the way their breaths made music between them.

And on and on into the dark until they needed to breathe, only to find themselves falling for the allure of one another again like the desire was never ending after being pent up for too long.

Morning came bright and glittering over the fallen snow. Nezael didn’t want to leave, not really, but his body was too pleasurably sore, so another round was not likely. Besides, Bellamy would be worried no matter what message Nezael had sent if he chose to stay out longer. Nezael could always return and he would, especially knowing what awaited him here in Yorick’s embrace.

Yorick peppered him with soft kisses as he helped Nezael dress, lingering against the more sensitive spots until Nezael had to tell him to stop or else he’d lose half the day reciprocating the touches on Yorick himself.

The last kiss pressed delicately to Nezael’s lips as Yorick wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. “Come back soon,” he said, hopeful.

Nezael kissed him in return. “I will. Always and forevermore.”

It was maybe a few more kisses before Nezael made it out the door and into the bright winter morning. The cold ghosted across his cheeks, but nothing would erase the warmth still coiling through his body. For once, life felt decidedly different. New. Entirely his. And all he’d needed was a friend. Something more. Much more.

Maybe wandering would do him some good.

There was a whole world out there and he’d only seen a glimpse of it shut up inside his tower. And now, he wanted everything else he couldn’t see and more. Maybe Yorick could help him do just that.