Airie

The fabric of the new tunic and the pants felt soft against Dusan’s skin, still damp after the hot bath. The bathtub was a new thing, and one he liked. The castle’s inhabitants bathed in gilded boat-like containers in which one could soak to his heart’s content while servants occasionally arrived with more hot water. Dusan had to admit that this was so much better than bathing in a cool river, its bottom laid out with sharp rocks, its stream constantly trying to push you off your feet.

He walked over to the table and picked up an apple from the bowl of fruits. They’d had their supper already, but the memories of how scarce and bland the food had been during their voyage constantly pushed him to eat more. Apple in hand, he paused in front of the open window, taking in the view of the city below, and the sun setting into the sea.

“What’re you doing?” Reijo murmured behind him.

Having finished with his bathing before Dusan, he was lying on the bed now, one hand under his head, the other on his chest, his outfit stark white against the golden coveralls, his hair spread on the pillow around his head like a halo.

“I’m wondering if I could eat another apple,” Dusan said.

“I’ve considered that, too,” Reijo muttered, looking half-asleep. “Yet I figured I might burst. This king is quite a hospitable man, Evander didn’t lie.”

Dusan hummed. Judging by the food, clothes and the living arrangements, the king indeed seemed quite hospitable. The only thing the room lacked was a second bed.

“Are we going to sleep together?”

“I think they left a mattress for you on the floor.” Reijo’s eyes remained closed, but a smile touched his lips. “An arrangement fit for a dog.” He opened his eyes, his grin widening at Dusan’s expression. “I’m joking! We’ll share a bed.”

“It doesn’t amuse me, you know—being compared to a dog,” Dusan said, coming closer.

“You did growl at the king.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t like how he touched you.”

Reijo hummed. “Really? How should he have touched me?”

“He shouldn’t have at all.”

Reijo patted the bed, and Dusan joined him on the golden coverall, laying on his back. With a sigh, Reijo turned to his side, wrapped a hand around Dusan’s chest and rested his head on Dusan’s shoulder. Reijo wasn’t a touchy person, and so this impulsive cuddling took Dusan by surprise. He lay quietly, unwilling to scare him off. On the ceiling above them, the sunset colors faded gradually.

“Should we light candles?” Reijo whispered.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“Are we going to sleep now?”

There was a pause, and then Reijo said, “Do you have other suggestions?”

Dusan glanced down at him, and Reijo looked up. Dusan tilted his head, and then, effortlessly, their lips met.

The kiss was soft, and slow, both of them feeling spent after the events of the day. Still, Dusan could feel the excitement beginning to circle through his veins. He wasn’t sure whether he should succumb to it, though. The person next to him wasn’t a regular man. Reijo was an adult, yes, but there was innocence to him that made Dusan doubtful. It was quite possible that all he had in mind was a good-night kiss.

“Are you after that piece of me?” Reijo whispered as the kiss ended.

“What if I were?”

Reijo hummed thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t know how to proceed.”

“The only question is whether you want to or not.”

“I don’t know.” Reijo moved away a bit and lay on his side, his eyes glistening in the dusk. “I don’t know what to expect.”

“Remember that pleasure touch of yours?” Dusan said. “It’s a bit like that, only less… intense.”

“I saw people do it,” Reijo whispered. “They seemed in pain.”

“Making love?” Dusan hummed. “It might look like that, but it’s not painful, at least it shouldn’t be. If lovers take their time and not rush into it, it can feel… quite good.”

“Aha.”

“You know I’d never hurt you.”

Reijo’s eyes seemed dark and deep and serious as he examined Dusan before shaking his head.

“I know,” he said. “I trust you. So… what do you want to do?”

“Just lay back,” Dusan said. “Close your eyes, and if you want me to stop, just say so.”

“Fine.” Reijo shifted, lying on his back, closing his eyes, putting his hands on his chest, his fingers curled in fists. Dusan raised himself on the elbow and gently urged one of the fists to open, and then massaged Reijo’s palm and his fingers, feeling the tension drain away. He repeated the procedure with Reijo’s other hand, his eyes traveling all the while, following the elegant lines of Reijo’s body. There was so much he wanted to do to it. He wanted to open those lips with a kiss, to drag those soft, white clothes off, to expose the smooth skin he had seen so many times but hadn’t allowed himself to touch. He’d been holding back for so long he was now afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Forcing himself to go slowly, he pulled Reijo’s tunic up, until his belly was exposed, and then his chest. He kissed the line in the middle of it, feeling the rapid heartbeat under the skin. He slid his hand up Reijo’s chest. Having taken care of Reijo while he’d been sick, and later bathing together with him during the trip, he knew well enough that Reijo was built like a regular man. He reacted like a human would, too. Dusan leaned over him and closed his lips on Reijo’s nipple, sucking slightly, and felt further encouraged by the shudder that ran through Reijo’s body.

Reijo’s fingers slid into his hair. He paused, unsure if that was a sign for him to stop—but the fingers only caressed his head in soft, mindless motions. He left the nipples, by now erect, and moved down, planting a line of kisses on the smooth skin, feeling the muscles underneath tensing and relaxing in response. As he reached the waistband of Reijo’s pants, he could already tell that nipples weren’t the only parts of his body that were erect.

“How does this feel?” He whispered, kissing Reijo’s stomach and gently pushing down his pants. The way Reijo raised his hips to help him seemed like a good enough answer, yet when Reijo’s voice came, broken and breathless, he knew for sure.

“I like it,” he whispered. “Go on.”

Dusan obliged, going lower still. Reijo gasped as Dusan’s lips closed over him, and his whole body shuddered. Dusan added his hand, wrapping it around the shaft, and moved both his mouth and hand down, and up, and down again.

“What…” He heard Reijo gasp again, then let draw in a sharp breath, before letting out a moan. Dusan continued, by then so aroused that it hurt. He slipped his hand into his own pants, running it up and down his length to the same rhythm with which his mouth and his other hand worked on Reijo. He could feel it coming, the muscles of Reijo’s thighs tensing, and the fingers in his hair curling, pushing him to meet the thrusts that were getting more desperate. Then it came, the shudder, and the taste in his mouth, and the broken moan of pleasure that pushed him, too, over the edge.

The fingers in his hair opened, releasing him, and he moved a little away, lying next to Reijo who remained on his back, looking up, breathing fast and shallow. Dusan wiped his mouth, and Reijo glanced at him, catching the movement.

“Not quite your pleasure touch, I know,” Dusan said. “But I tried.”

“Not quite the same,” Reijo agreed, still breathless. He rolled to his side to face Dusan, and cupped his cheek with his hand, and then smiled. “But that was so good, Dusan. That was so damn good I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

“Talk to me in the morning,” Dusan said, trying and failing to suppress his own grin. “I think it could be arranged.”

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