“It suits you,” Varen said, a little less softly now. “I wish I had a mirror so you could see.”
Korik cleared his throat, pulling the long braid over his shoulder to look at it. Only being able to see the length, it didn’t look any different from a regular braid; but he tried to imagine how it would look running down his skull, the same woven pattern Varen now wore. He thought it looked interesting enough on the elf, so he supposed it would be the same on him. “I trust your judgment.”
Looking down, he realized that he’d become humiliatingly hard in his trousers, making his face burn even hotter. What was wrong with him? Was he really so pathetic that just a few moments of contact with his hair was enough to cause such a reaction? Gods, he hoped Varen hadn’t noticed.
He ran one hand down the length of the braid as he tried to distract himself and think of anything else that might make it go down. The length of the braid ended right at the bottom of his ribs. His hair had gotten long—he couldn’t quite remember when he’d last had it trimmed. For a moment, they were both silent, then realizing his silence might have been suspicious, Korik added shakily, “Thank you.”
He heard Varen let out a small chuckle behind him. “My pleasure. I hope you like it.”
Korik nodded again—his cock jumped at Varen’s low voice so close to him, and he knew he would never calm down until they had more space apart. So he shuffled back over to his own bedroll, while keeping his back to the elf. He somehow knew that if Varen met his eyes, his face would burst into flame and the elf would immediatelyknowjust what sort of reaction he’d elicited in Korik. As he settled onto his bedroll, he tried to tug surreptitiously at his trousers to hide his arousal.
For a few minutes, they were both silent. Korik could hear Varen shuffling around and could sense his movements in their enclosed space; but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at the elf. Finally, Varen’s voice came out as a sigh.
“I suppose I’ll try and sleep,” he said. “We’ve nothing else to do now.”
“Right,” Korik agreed.
“Well,” Varen said. “Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight,” Korik said.
He laid awake in the dim cave for a long time, staring up at the low ceiling. It felt too early to sleep, but Varen had a point; there wasn’t much else for them to do but wait. He felt acutely aware of Varen’s presence—the elf felt so close, even though they were on opposite sides of the little den with several feet between them. The soft sound of his breaths, slow and even, felt right next to Korik’s ears. For a long while, that was all he could hear, until the sound of the wind picking up outside drowned it out.
Though it didn’t feel like it would ever come, he must have fallen asleep. He awoke to Varen’s voice coming through the darkness.
“Korik?” the elf said, and Korik shot up into wakefulness, startled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, disoriented. The wind outside was howling, and the cave was completely dark. He summoned a tiny spark of fire to illuminate the space; across from him, Varen winced in the light.
“It’s freezing,” Varen said. Now that Korik could see him, he could tell that the elf was shivering. The warmth of the flame in his hand made Korik suddenly aware of how icy cold the rest of the surrounding air was. “Can we... Is it alright if I lay closer to you? Body heat and all that.”
Korik felt himself flush. It was only practical, of course. The closer they were to each other, the warmer they would be. The warming charm on the stones could only do so much to ward off the chill of the storm, so if they could share body heat... The thought still made him nearly sick with embarrassment, but he didn’t want Varen to suffer unnecessarily, either.
“Alright,” he agreed, despite the heat rising in his face as he said it. “Come closer. We can... Share a blanket. If you want.”
“Please,” Varen agreed quickly. He must have been truly cold, Korik thought, because he wasn’t teasing or smirking smugly over at him—no, he sounded genuinely relieved. Korik watched as the elf shuffled out of his bedroll, still wrapped in his heavy cloak, and pulled it over until they were side by side.
His skin prickled with how close their bodies were as Varen laid down beside him; but he ignored that as he draped his blanket over the both of them. Since he was awake, he reached over to touch each of the stones that he had set up to keep them warm, filling them with magic until they heated back up. When they were hot to the touch, he pushed a few closer to Varen. He could feel the elf still shivering under the blankets. Varen’s breaths came out in soft shudders, but were slowly calming into a more even rhythm.
They were impossibly close, Korik thought, as he tried to settle back down. He kept his eyes squeezed closed as he lay rigidly on his back, refusing to let his head turn toward Varen; but he could still feel the elf’s presence as acutely as if they were touching each other.
He had always been uncomfortable with others touching him. He didn’t much like touching other people, either; but healing was so hands-on that he’d long been desensitized to that discomfort. The longer he lay there, though, the more he realized his heightened awareness of Varen’s presence didn’t feel like that discomfort at all. No, it felt more like resisting something that pulled at him—as if his bodywantedto roll over and be flush against Varen’s, to close the small space between them.
Humiliation flooded him, making his stomach clench. What was wrong with him? He had felt those sorts of urges before, of course; but he hadn’t wanted anyone in that way in years, decades maybe. Why now? Whyhim? Was it just because they were here, like this, with no one else? If he had gone home to Drol Kuggradh, instead of joining him on this mission, would he have ever given Varen a second thought?
He should have hated this—and maybe some small part of him did. But why did the rest of him want to curl up closer to Varen, to keep him warm with his own bigger body?
“Korik,” Varen murmured, his voice soft and tired now. “I can hear you breathing like you’re being chased by wolves. I can move if you want.”
“No, I...” Korik stammered, his voice wavering. What could he say? “It makes me—nervous. To have anyone this close. But I want you to stay warm. Both of us. I’ll... I’ll be okay.”
The words were stilted and forced and not entirely true, but seemed to convince the elf well enough. “I feel warmer already. Thank you.”
It was so confusing how different the elf could be around him. Part of Korik still expected the vain, callous version of Varen that he had first met to jump out at any time. But he knew that wasn’t fair; the longer they traveled together, the more he was convinced that was all a mask the elf wore for his own benefit, or at least a significant exaggeration of his own natural disposition. But even recently, though much improved, he would hesitate to say Varen wasnice.
Yet this was genuine gratitude in the elf’s voice now, perhaps tempered by desperation and the sort of raw earnestness that only came out in the middle of the night. It assuaged some of his nerves, though he wondered how much of that would still be there come the morning, whenever that was.
He tried to focus on the mean, inconsiderate, rude, haughty version of Varen still so clear in his memory, convincing himself that person would return as soon as they were out of danger. Somehow, it didn’t relieve any of the longing that tugged at his chest.
