Now that the tears had dried up, Eric was starting to feel the exhaustion kicking in. He should be feeling mortified. He knew that was the right emotion for this and in any other circumstance, he would have been beet red and hiding in his own rooms. But with his head was pillowed comfortably on Ix’s bicep with Ix’s other arm slung across his neck, his fingers carding soothingly through his hair, Eric just couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Hey. When did you lose your shirt?” mumbled Eric, suddenly realizing that his cheek was against bare skin and thecoarse rub of hair. That, and the full expanse of Ixthan’s chest in front of his face now that he’d blinked away enough of the tears to see. He’d imagined this so many times over the years; none of his fantasies had involved crying.
“Some time after you emptied a cloud onto my shoulder,” said Ix, but with amusement.
“Sorry.” A pause. “Ix. If I’d asked you to come to the execution with me, would you have?”
“Of course.” Ixthan sounded puzzled. “But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t want to watch it, I certainly didn’t want you to have to watch it. But also, yes. Maybe,” Eric mumbled.
“Then I’ll join you for the next one.” Ix said it so dryly that it caught Eric off guard, and before he knew it, he was laughing.
Ix pulled at one of Eric’s curls until the strand of hair straightened, then let go. Eric usually set his hair with pomade so that curls were kept tight to his head, but he’d had that bath earlier and was hopeless at it without a servant’s help so they were soft and bouncy now. The curl sprang back into shape, so Ix did it again, and Eric watched him do it, alarmed by the immense fondness swelling in his chest. Oh, no. It was as if a dam had broken. He had so neatly bound his emotions up for the last few months so that he could keep everything together for Petra, for himself, and now it had come back to haunt him.
“What are you doing?” asked Eric.
“What does it look like? This hair is delightful.” Ix flicked another curl.
“Says the man with the most enviable hair in the kingdom,” muttered Eric. That didn’t even count as a compliment, it was simply true. There were people who had immaculate wigs which weren’t as full as Ixthan’s hair and it was doubly infuriating that he needed to do nothing to maintain it.
Today had already been the most strange day of Eric’s life; he couldn’t be blamed if he reached out and petted Ix’s hair inreturn. It was just as soft as he thought it would be. He imagined pressing his entire face into it and nuzzling it, running it across his bare skin. He had to stop himself, else he would go mad knowing so much about what he couldn’t have.
Their faces were so close Eric could feel the warmth of Ix’s breath on his cheek, and that was new too. Ix never ran warm. When Eric dared flick his glance up, Ix was just watching him. He was waiting for Eric to come to him. Like a predator, knowing that his prey would creep closer and closer. Well, Eric wasn’t prey. He stared back defiantly. “What?”
The laughter rumbled in Ix’s chest, his eyes hooded with amusement. “Coward.”
Eric was about to protest – he wasn’t a coward, he just had a healthy sense of what was appropriate behavior or not, and making any sort of flirtatious move on a prince didnotcount as appropriate – when Ix slid his hand around to Eric’s waist. He immediately lost all concept of words as Ix brushed the sensitive skin there, back and forth with his thumb. Only a light shove at the hip and Eric was on his back with Ixthan looming over him, that waterfall of hair draped over one shoulder.
Before Eric even had time to admire it, Ix leaned in and closed the gap between their faces. Eric gasped and then his mouth was full of Ixthan, the press of his lips sensuous and slow, his other hand strong as he cupped Eric’s face and kept him from pulling away, the slide of his tongue teasing as Eric opened his mouth eagerly.
Eric pulled him in close, one hand digging in to the meat of Ix’s shoulders, the other roaming down the bare skin of his back, feeling the planes and grooves of his muscles as if he couldn’t decide where to cling or to desperately touch as much as he could get his hands on. Ix bore his weight onto Eric, pressing him into the bed from the waist down with his hips and Eric groaned.
“Hells, Ix,” said Eric as Ixthan did it again and heat flooded his body. It had been an embarrassingly long time since he ha bothered to touch himself, given, well, everything. And it had been even longer since he’d allowed himself to think of Ix as he did so.
“Eager,” Ix commented as he pressed a hand lightly over Eric’s breeches. He didn’t move, didn’t stroke, didn’t do anything apart from watch Eric get redder in the face, savoring his reaction.
“I can feel you too!” Eric spluttered, resenting the implication that he was the more desperate one. It was true, he could feel the shape of Ix’s cock pressing against Eric’s thigh getting harder, so close he wanted to thrust up and rut against it.
Ix snorted and slid his hand tantalizingly slowly up the length of Eric’s cock, and it was shameful how Eric arched up into it. Waiting for Ix to unlace his breeches and peel them off felt like a tease; he hadn’t realized he’d held his breath until Ix took hold of him in his hand, wrapping his fingers around firmly, and Eric gasped.
“A shame my hand is smaller now,” said Ix casually, as if he were commenting on the weather instead of pumping Eric’s cock. “Your cock would fit nice and snug into the palm of my demon hand.”
“You—” was all Eric managed to get out before a white-hot heat consumed him, a whirlpool of rage and lust warring in his gut. Ix was so unbearably arrogant he could hardly stand it and the fact that Eric found that attractive was disgusting. Ix rubbed his thumb over Eric’s slit with relish; Eric turned his head and sank his teeth into the closest thing – Ix’s forearm – and the muscle clamped in his mouth muffled his scream as he came with no warning.
Godsdamnit. Eric unhooked his jaw and closed his eyes as the post-lust haze cleared immediately. He couldn’t even bear tolook at Ix right now, he could just imagine the smug look on his face. That had to be the most embarrassing thing he had ever done.
“What,” said Ix with obvious delight, “was that?”
“I think I lost my mind for a moment,” mumbled Eric, eyes still firmly closed as if he might be able to undo time to two minutes previously. The kissing had been nice, hadn’t it? Before he’d then gone and lost all semblance of thought.
A slight movement in the mattress as Ix shifted his weight and moved his arm. “By all means, lose your mind more often. You left a bite mark on me.”
Grimacing, Eric opened his eyes to see. A mistake; he was immediately confronted the sight of Ix’s hand covered in a sticky trail –hissticky trail – as Ix licked it off with long sensuous motions of his tongue. Eric had to avert his eyes again as if he were some blushing, fainting maiden.
“That’s – stop goading me,” he said, faintly accusatory.
“Salty,” said Ix, which meant ‘no’. Argh. Eric could see him still doing it out of the corner of his eye.
