And before Adrissu could even think to react, Ruan had leaned forward, plucked a grape from the bunch, and held it to Adrissu’s lips.
“Ruan,” Adrissu hissed in protest, his face immediately starting to burn. The utterance was more than enough for Ruan to press the fruit into his mouth, along with his fingertip. His lips closed around the soft flesh, and the faint whimper that escaped him would have been nothing short of shameful, if not for the similar sound Ruan made at the same time, consuming Adrissu’s attention.
“Good?” Ruan asked, barely above a whisper. As he slowly pulled away, his finger dragged along Adrissu’s bottom lip. His mind had gone completely blank. He caught himself following the movement with his head, his skin craving the contact, as he bit down into the fruit. “Another?”
“Stop this,” Adrissu hissed, seizing the human’s wrist before he could pluck another grape.
“Why?” Ruan said, leaning closer to him. Adrissu pushed his hand away, but this time it was Ruan who grabbed his wrist. Only the fabric of Adrissu’s robe kept their skin from touching. “I know you want me. I see how you look at me. If I want you, too, what’s to stop us?”
“You presume,” Adrissu breathed, though he could barely speak over Ruan’s voice echoing in his head—if I want you, too...
“Don’t try to deny it,” Ruan said, and his lips split into a smile as he laughed. “You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are, Adrissu, not anymore.”
“I am far too old for you,” he continued. The protest was weak to his own ears. For all his refusal, he was rock-hard under his robes. If Ruan looked down, the evidence of his arousal would be damning; but the human was only looking at his eyes, his face.
“For the gods’ sakes, you’re an elf. You’re too old foranyonein this city,” Ruan laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t care about any of that, not at all. We’re both adults. Why dance around it? Why not just have what we both want?”
Adrissu’s voice caught in his throat, silencing his protest. Every cell in his body, every primal instinct he had, was screaming to leap at him now, to take the human’s heart and body as his own, to devour him whole. Ruan was offering himself to him—but he couldn’t. He had to keep him away, or he risked being found out. For all the animalistic need surging through his body, he clung to the one rational thought he could form. He could not let his secret be known, not even by Ruan; and the closer they were, the more he could find out.
“Because,” he managed to choke out, squeezing his eyes shut. If Ruan thought he were being vulnerable, afraid, maybe then he would relent. “Because I will not care for a human. Icannot. I will not carry that grief with me for so long, for centuries, Ruan. I willnot.”
His voice broke at the end. For a long moment Ruan was perfectly still, then slowly he exhaled, releasing Adrissu’s wrist before leaning back in his chair.
“I...” he started, then shook his head. His brows had drawn together, and his intense gaze had fallen away. Clearly the thought had never occurred to him. Why would it?Hewould not be the one to be left behind—to live so many lifetimes over without his mate. Finally, he sputtered out, “I... I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
Adrissu was silent, as he looked down at the grapes still in his hand. It was entirely too personal of an admission, now that he could think enough to consider it, but it seemed to have done the job. For a long moment neither of them spoke, only the sound of their breathing between them. With his heart still pounding the way it was, his breath was coming in short, rapid bursts, but so was Ruan’s. Adrissu kept his gaze firmly downcast. He would not be the first one to break.
“Adrissu,” Ruan said abruptly, and he glanced up at the human once more. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, and... Maybe I’m overstepping. But... You can’t stay alone forever, can you? Isn’t that worse?”
Part of Adrissu bristled in irritation at that; but a quieter part of him wanted to agree, wanted to beg Ruan to forget what he said, and wanted to finally,finallytake the other man in his arms and never let go.
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly. Ruan sighed and rubbed his forehead with one hand, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
“All right,” he said. “I can’t force you to do anything, of course, Adrissu, but... I hope maybe with some thought you’ll change your mind. My...” His cheeks took on a warmer color, and he cleared his throat before continuing in a smaller voice, “My feelings for you won’t change.”
“Feelings,” Adrissu repeated, scowling at the words, that the human would presume to know anything aboutfeelings. “You only want me in your bed.”
“That isn’t true,” Ruan snapped, anger flashing in his eyes as he looked back up at Adrissu. For a moment they glared at each other, eyes heated, until finally Adrissu looked away and started to stand up.
“I should go,” he muttered.
“Adrissu, wait,” Ruan said, but Adrissu had already turned to leave. Ruan’s fingers barely caught the edge of his sleeve; he yanked it away, pulling it free almost effortlessly. Ruan did not follow him as he strode out of the room, through the entryway, and out the door.
He had no memory of his walk back to his tower, only returning to his senses as the heavy wooden door closed behind it. He leaned against it heavily, pressing one hand to his chest, as if it might calm his hammering heart. He lifted his other hand to his chest as well, only to realize that he was still holding the bunch of grapes. Like a fool. He glared down at them in his palm.
The sight of them brought back the memory of Ruan’s finger in his mouth, and he bit back a whimper at the lingering sensation of the human’s warm skin, the rough drag of his calloused finger on his lips, the taste of him—
His cock ached to be touched, so urgently it was nearly painful. Right now, he could have been fucking the human, could have buried his cock deep inside of him; but instead he was here, alone. Hating himself, hating Ruan, he took himself in one hand and stroked—hard and rough—the way he imagined Ruan would touch him with his battle-scarred hands. He lifted the bunch of grapes to his mouth, breathing in the scent deeply, remembering. He imagined taking the rest of Ruan’s fingers into his mouth, the feel of them, the taste of his cock—
Adrissu shuddered, crushing a grape between his teeth as he came and letting its sticky juice drip down his chin. He would never have more, he told himself, as his labored breathing finally started to slow. This was all he would have of Ruan. He would never, ever let himself have more.
Chapter Six
AdrissualmostexpectedRuanto not show up the next day. The human didn’t always check in with him in the morning; sometimes he would just take up his post outside, and Adrissu would not see him until they had lunch. But this time, when Ruan did not greet him in the morning, he silently resigned himself: he had finally driven the human away once and for all.
He should be relieved, he told himself. The whole reason that he was trying to avoid Ruan was to spare himself the heartbreak of his mate dying in just a few short decades, if not sooner. So why was he so miserable now? Why did he still want to be near the human, to see his face and hear his voice?
It was midmorning when the thought of Ruan never sitting outside his tower again became intolerable. Adrissu hadn’t been able to focus on any of his work that morning anyway, so he pulled his shoes on and stepped outside—nearly hitting Ruan with the door as he shoved it open.
