“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.
Six
Wild
Though every trail and path was snow-ridden and glittering, covering all Nezael knew of the woods, his lord’s wards were beacons and he dutifully followed them home. It stood out, all bark-colored brick and windows gleaming the sun back, and Nezael studied it for a moment before he strode inside. Bellamy was there in seconds, likely hearing the door open, and once he saw Nezael, he placed a bony hand to his chest in relief.
“I told you I’d be back,” Nezael said, smiling. “No need for such worry.”
Bellamy’s shoulders dropped. “I fear I will always worry,” he said. “Come. The snow weakened some of the wards and you’ll need to reapply them before we hunker down by the fireplace with something warm to eat.”
Nezael stopped in Isabella’s room first and returned the misplaced herbs, mouthing her a thank you for the opportunity. When he reemerged, he took to Bellamy’s directions with ease, his entire being still feeling like it floated from the night before.
Wards came easily to his hands, making the cold recede back beyond the windows, and once they were all fixed, Nezael settled in for the dinner now turned lunch Bellamy had cooked for him the previous night, now all warmed up. It was a small brisket—Nezael didn’t exactly know what kind—drizzled in a berry sauce that made the kitchen smell wonderful.
The meal as a whole was a quiet affair and they only spoke about small things. Bellamy regaled Nezael with stories from before Nezael came to the tower, each one more ridiculous than the last to make Nezael laugh, he was sure, and normally, he’d be a rapt audience. Except today his thoughts strayed right back to Yorick and firmly stayed there throughout the rest of the day.
In the night, he dreamed of Yorick in his bed with him and the dreams morphed to match who Yorick was in reality. Nezael could picture him perfectly. The sleepy look in his eyes as it reflected the hearth’s light. The soft ghost of his kisses pressing against Nezael top to bottom and it didn’t let up until Nezael awoke alone.
