Varen sat on his bedroll, watching him and thinking of what had just happened. He had surprised himself with the offer to Korik. It was something he had been thinking about when he woke with the orc’s arm over his shoulder, but had been unsure if he should say it—right until the words were leaving his lips. But Korik had surprised him even more by accepting.
It hadn’t come out of nowhere, of course. He’d admired the orc’s form before, and not always subtly. And he had often felt Korik’s eyes when they were on him, the heat of his lingering gaze. Still, he hadn’t gone into this intending to bed the orc—and even when making the offer, he had mostly expected Korik to turn him down. But when they laid beside each other as he shivered in the cold in the middle of the night, his cock had grownveryinterested. He lay awake for far too long, hyperaware of the orc’s big, warm body in such near proximity.
When he’d felt Korik stir to wakefulness beside him, he couldn’t contain himself. If Korik had turned him down, then he could get over his attraction: push it from his mind until it was just an awkward memory of their journey together.
But Korik had said yes to him—had moaned at his touch and rutted into his hand. He’d made Korik come, then fucked his mouth. His cock was growing hard all over again just at the memory, so he shook the thought away.
Varen had said it was just something fun to keep warm and pass the time, and Korik had agreed. At first, he had regretted saying it; but it seemed to convince Korik, so maybe it was for the best to keep things casual. That was all it was. That was all it had to mean. Right?
“Right,” he muttered to himself, turning away from where Korik was sitting. There would be plenty of time for a second round later, he was sure. For now, Korik was actually doing something useful, so he should do the same instead of replaying the scenes in his mind.
He tidied up their bedrolls, which he kept pushed together for now, and checked the seal Korik had made to close off the entrance of the cave against the snow. He pushed lightly against the layer of earth, but it was firmly in place and didn’t budge. It made him wonder how high the snow was piled outside, if it was just leaning against the wood or had buried them in here entirely. He wondered what Korik was seeing, if there were any animals nearby that could see anything useful. He wondered how long the storm would last, how long they might have the excuse of needing to keep warm.
The wind still howled outside with the occasional lull that would inevitably disappear as it picked up again. As he waited, he took each of the stone that was arranged around the cave and channeled his magic into it, warming the stone until it was almost too hot to touch. When they were all heated, the cave felt noticeably warmer, though still not enough that he would risk taking off his cloak.
It took nearly an hour for Korik to stir again, long enough that some of the warmth was wearing off. Varen had nothing better to do by then but look at the orc, so he noticed immediately when Korik seemed to come back to himself—eyelids flickering, hands closing into fists. The orc grimaced, moving his head slowly, as if his muscles had grown stiff in the time he’d been sitting there motionlessly. He blinked a few times, then looked at Varen. A slight flush rose in his face as he stretched his legs.
“Good news, I hope,” Varen said, but the way Korik’s lip twisted in a half-grimace made him think otherwise. “What did you see?”
“It was hard to tell,” Korik said. His voice came out raspy, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Everything is mostly still waiting out the storm. I couldn’t find any birds flying. I did get a few little creatures, rabbits and such, that I could get to come out of their warrens to see. But everywhere I looked, the storm was still going strong. I think we probably have another day at least. Hard to say without being able to see the sky, though.”
Varen groaned, leaning back on his bedroll. Being cooped up like this was bad enough, but not knowing when the end would be in sight—when they had such an urgent task ahead—was practically torture. He tried to ignore the guilt that simmered in his belly whenever he thought of how they wouldn’t be in this mess at all if it weren’t for him. Maybe the teleportation stone was defective, and he never should have trusted Alwyn. Or maybe he wasn’t careful enough when they were tracking and had somehow tipped off the rebel orcs to their presence, allowing for them to be hunted. Or perhaps it was cruel of him to allow Korik to come with him in the first place, knowing how little the orc wanted to do with any of this. It was true King Ruven had asked him, and he wouldn’t outright disobey; but he could have protested, or suggested an alternative, to sway the king’s opinion.
Instead, he had wanted to, what,spend more timewith Korik? He’d certainly gotten his wish, but he should have known there would always be a catch.
“Well,” he finally sighed, sensing Korik’s discomfort with his frustration. “I suppose we have a lot of time to kill, then, don’t we?”
Korik flushed, looking away, and Varen winced.
“I just meant—being cooped up like this with nothing to do. It’s a classic recipe for madness,” he continued, before Korik could say anything. “I would much rather be out walking right now. The longer we’re stuck, the harder this all will be.”
Korik was silent for a moment, but he came to sit down next to Varen in his bedroll. Varen could practically feel the nerves radiating off him. The orc always became uncomfortable when they were in such close proximity, but hopefully that would fade more with time. Finally, he offered,
“There are plenty of ways to pass the time.”
Varen smirked and asked in a teasing tone, “Oh? What would you suggest?”
Korik’s expression was sweetly flustered as he glanced away, but he still answered. “Telling stories. Singing songs. Playing games. I remember doing all these things as a child, when traveling with our clan.”
It was a more earnest answer than Varen had been expecting.
“I’m not much of a singer, and I doubt we know many of the same songs,” he said, shaking his head. “But I suppose we could come up with some stories. Or what games would you suggest?”
Korik thought about it for a long moment.
“It is more difficult when we’re in a small space like this,” he finally confessed. “I liked to play a game where you would pick something you could see, then give hints about it until someone could guess what it was. Not much to see here, though.”
Varen chuckled. The image of a young Korik playing children’s games was surprisingly endearing. Had he always been so quiet and serious? Was he shy as a child, or had he grown more reserved as an adult?
“I remember something we would play around the campfire during my training,” Varen said. “You would tell three things about yourself, but one of them is a lie. The others would have to guess which is the lie. Want to try that?”
Korik seemed to think for a long moment, considering. “You go first,” he finally said, and Varen laughed.
“Alright,” he said, thinking. What had he used to say when he’d played this game before? Mostly he remembered the truths—and the lies—getting more and more raunchy the longer the game went on. Something told him, though, he should probably start with topics that were more tame. “Let’s see... My first job was as a courier, my favorite food is strawberry cake, and... my youngest sibling is almost ninety years younger than me.”
Korik’s eyes grew wide at the last statement. “That can’t be true,” he said immediately, frowning, and Varen laughed again.
“It’s true!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “I’m the eldest. Most elves have a larger age gap with their siblings compared to humans and other shorter-lived races, but we’re pretty far apart, even for elves. There’s me and Enriel seventeen years apart. Then my parents had a, well, rather unexpected surprise, and then we had a baby brother. He’s sixteen now, so still at home with them.”
