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“Do come in,” Raider said pleasantly, as though he couldn’t feel the tension practically vibrating from Seth in the cramped quarters.
“Don’t fuck with my gear again.” Seth crossed his beautifully muscled arms over the buckled front of his vest, his bracers creaking with strain along his forearms. “I hired you to guide me, not to tear my shit apart.”
“When you hired me, I felt it was implicit that I was to get you across the Kesh alive. You and your horse, ideally. Some of your tack and gear was getting in the way of that.” Raider tacked on, smiling, “You can thank me later.”
Green eyes bored into him. “Let’s get something straight. You work for me. If you have a suggestion, bring it to me, and I will consider it.”
The man wasn’t used to working with people, was he? Then again, neither was Raider.
“First. I do not have suggestions. As your guide, I will make many decisions, some of which you won’t like or see the point of—because you lack my knowledge. Isn’t that why you hired me?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Seth’s mouth opened immediately with a reply, so Raider had to speak quickly over him. “Second. I thought you were in a blazing hurry, so it makes no sense to waste time hashing out every single detail.”
“Oh, now you want to be in a hurry. I found you hanging out with some old man, smoking.”
“Yes, and you wasted time tracking me there,” Raider drawled then emphasized, “Gangi is a camel breeder.”
It was a test. Of the Curator’s travel experience. Of his intelligence.
Seth closed his eyes as realization dawned. “You were buying butter.”
Oh, good, so the man was high functioning. Not that Raider had really had any doubts.
He grinned. “How many times do I have to tell you that work and pleasure can be accomplished seamlessly?”
“You could have said that from the start. Any of my shit you wanted to change? You could have said. When I saw you drinking kahve in the courtyard—”
“I’m like the newly raised dead in the morning.”
“—or when you saw me later in the bazaar.” Seth’s pulse beat visibly, deliciously, in his neck. “I know why you didn’t.”
Raider couldn’t stop his grin from turning wicked. “Oh?”
Two short steps brought Seth’s crossed arms almost close enough to brush Raider’s chest. The proximity had Raider’s skin prickling with anticipation. His cock stirred with interest.
“You enjoy needling me,” Seth accused. “Admit it.”
“With pleasure.”
The easy admission didn’t seem to satisfy Seth. “You get some kind of twisted thrill out of seeing me angry.”
“I wouldn’t call it twisted. You’re gorgeous when you’re angry. Didn’t you know?”
Those green eyes sparked with some of that gorgeous anger—but it wasn’t anger staining the Curator’s cheekbones red. It wasn’t anger that had his lips parting slightly.
“You don’t think that’s twisted, liking that?”
“Not in the least,” Raider answered. “But I do think all this intensity is being wasted—when it could be put to mutually pleasurable use.”
Seth’s voice turned gravelly. “That’s what you think you want?”
Eyes still boring into Raider, Seth uncrossed his arms and reached up with one hand. He gripped Raider by the throat and pushed him back against the wall. It wasn’t a grab or slam, but it was firm, dominating—and it took Raider’s cock from interested to rock hard in an instant.
Eyes burning, Seth squeezed slightly, cutting off Raider’s air. Raider grabbed Seth’s belt, narrowly missing the chakram’s sharp edge, and yanked the Curator against him. Even through the heavy arcane fabric, it was obvious: that hard cock was every bit the magnificent one he’d hoped for.
As Raider’s fingers skipped along Seth’s utility belt, Seth squeezed his throat and ground into him. Raider’s body roared to life. Fuck, he needed this. He’d needed it for days.
Seth’s grip loosened to let Raider breathe, then it tightened again. “You like this?”
