If Kesst had ever imagined that a new sickroom would improve the attitudes of Orc Mountain’s injured inhabitants, he’d clearly been downright deranged.
“If you sayone more wordto my brilliant mate,” he hissed at Silfast’s hideous howling face, “who is, incidentally, probably about to save your sorry life, I will personally claw out your eyeballs while you sleep. Sofuck.Off.”
Miraculously, that actually shut Silfast up, and he sagged backwards onto the bed behind him, protectively squeezing his eyes shut. While beside Kesst, Eft sent a grateful flare of magic into his arm, and then reached forward, settling his hand against Silfast’s head. And beneath him, Silfast slowly relaxed, the visible pain leaving his face, his eyes fluttering as he exhaled.
Kesst watched it all with genuine appreciation, his hand stroking up and down Eft’s back. Because even after spending multiple moons witnessing Eft’s astonishing skill, he’d never yet tired of seeing it. Of tasting that magic, feeling it take whatever misery and pain stood before it, and changing it. Remaking it. Making it whole again.
“Brilliant, Eft,” he murmured, easing a little closer, inhaling his familiar, glorious scent. “As always.”
Eft shot him a brief, rueful look, another affectionate twinge of magic, before flipping his attention back to Silfast again. But Kesst just kept standing there for another long moment, silently marvelling at his spectacular mate, and the new life they’d somehow made together. This new home.
Part of that, of course, was their clean, spacious new sickroom. It was no longer situated down in stuffy Ka-esh hell, but instead — as Eft had promised — Kesst had chosen a new place, a place where he felt comfortable. A project that had resulted in Kesst spending multiple days stalking about the mountain, and sniffing at various rooms — but finally he’d decided on a large, open room at the very heart of the mountain. A room well away from the Ash-Kai summit where Kaugir still desperately clung to his rule, and also well away from Ka-esh hell, where Kesst’s mother had grieved. And instead, it was a plain, straightforward, bland-scented room, featuring excellent ventilation, an adjoining latrine, and a cozy fireplace — all assets that would suit not only Kesst, but Eft’s patients, too.
“It’s perfect,” Eft had firmly told Kesst that first night, once Kesst had brought him there, and tentatively explained the room’s various qualities. “I knew you’d find the best place for us. Thank you.”
Kesst had attempted to wave it away, and to remind Eft that it washissickroom, not theirs — but predictably, Eft had refused to hear it, and had instead begun a veritable campaign of making love to Kesst in multiple locations throughout the room, filling it with their scents. And once that had been established, he’d helped Kesst scrub the room, and they’d brought up the beds, and picked the best one together, and covered it with their scents, too. And after all that, Kesst had had to admit that the room really did feel like his now, just as much as it felt like Eft’s. It felt like…theirs.
“Efterar!” shouted a voice behind them. “Olarr has been wounded scouting, again!”
Both Kesst and Eft spun around at once, frowning toward where two Bautul orcs were dragging in a very bloody Olarr. And as usual, Kesst stalked over to investigate, directing the orcs to leave Olarr’s ruined clothes at the door, and then escorting Olarr to the nearest unoccupied bed, and promising that Eft would see him shortly.
Of course, that was only the beginning of the day’s events, and Kesst soon found himself caught up in the rhythm and flow of life in their sickroom. Not only assessing and directing any new arrivals, but also keeping an eye on their patients’ sleep and pain levels, helping them to the latrine, handing out water, and just doing whatever else Eft needed. While also keeping up a steady stream of cheerful commentary and gossip, something he’d only done at first to entertain Eft — but he’d since discovered that it made his own days far more entertaining, too. And it had turned out that sickroom gossip was by far the best gossip, and Kesst had somehow gained a reputation as someone to seek out, whenever there was important information to learn or share. Or, even better, whenever there were secret romantic entanglements to discover.
“Wounded by that same plucky human yet again, hmmm?” he asked a pained-looking Olarr, once Eft had finished staunching the worst of his wounds. “Soodd, that a great powerful warrior like you hasn’t managed to put that one in his place yet. Although” — Kesst thoughtfully tapped his chin — “I heard the other day that your little nemesis smells very similar to a certain well-known Preiangeneral?”
Olarr’s blood-streaked face turned a highly betraying shade of pink, his mouth frowning as it opened and closed. “I am not —” he began, and then winced, narrowing his eyes toward Kesst with obvious suspicion. “Ach, has Grimarr put you up to this?”
Grimarr had, in fact, been pointedly hinting about Olarr’s mysterious human last time he’d stopped by looking for news — something he now did multiple times each week — and Kesst gave his most enigmatic smile, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “It’s our Ash-Kai duty,” he coolly informed Olarr. “However, it’s alsoyourduty to not drag Preia’s whole army here for Grim to deal with, just becauseyoucan’t control yourself around a pretty piece of arse with a sword.”
Olarr winced again, wiping his big hand at his bloody face. “I have not lostcontrol,” he said, his voice firm. “And he shall not betray us to his kin. I am sure of this. He is too…”
“Too addicted to having your prick in that pretty arse, after he’s put you on your knees?” Kesst supplied over his shoulder as he went to fill a waterskin, swaying his own pretty arse in its tight trousers as he went. “Perfectly understandable, of course. I’ll let Grim know, and he’ll likely let it go. As long asyou” — he jabbed a claw toward Olarr as he brought back the waterskin — “make sure you keep your feisty little manveryhappy and quiet, hmmm?”
Olarr gave an irritable-sounding grunt, but that was surely relief in his eyes, too, and he didn’t seem inclined to argue. Thankfully, because there was a rising commotion across the room, and Kesst whipped around to the aggravating sight and scent of Ulfarr, who was currently wildly staggering against Eft, while also spouting a veritable fountain of blood from his horribly broken arm.
“You have near killed me, you craven sneaking bewitcher!” Ulfarr was hollering, his face mottled with sweat and pain, his broken arm spraying blood across Eft’s previously clean tunic. “If you ken I shall not tell my father and all my Skai brothers about this, you —”
Thankfully he broke off there, his eyes rolling back, his big body crashing down onto the bed behind him. While Eft — who had obviously just knocked him out — roughly grasped Ulfarr’s broken arm again, and yanked it straight with vicious, painful-looking force. An action that should have perhaps lessened the taste of Eft’s rising anger, but Kesst could feel it swinging higher, surging dark and bitter through the air.
Kesst grimaced and swiftly strode over toward Eft, while silently cursing Ulfarr and all his foul Skai clan. Their ongoing aggression and ungratefulness toward Eft had become one of the greatest irritations in Kesst’s otherwise delightful new life, and had indeed seemed to worsen over time. Partly due to Kaugir’s continued public disdain of his son’s “craven pet bewitcher”, Kesst knew — but also, without question, because of him. Because he’d once been ostensibly available for those bastards’ pleasure, and now was most decidedly not. A fact which had taken these vermin some time to fully appreciate, and which they’d since returned with a tedious onslaught of threats, mockery, and derision.
“Deep breaths, Eft,” Kesst said now, from where he was slipping up behind him, and sliding his arms around his waist. “Gods, these Skai are obnoxious ungrateful louts, aren’t they? Can’t you just let him bleed out for a while?”
He could feel Eft slightly relaxing under his touch, his anger slowly pooling away, even as he gave an irritable shake of his head. “Not yet,” he grunted, as his magic shifted and reoriented itself, his hand now settling against Ulfarr’s face. “He’s got a head wound, too. Lucky he’s not dead.”
Kesst exhaled into Eft’s neck, giving a wry smile as he shook his head. “Unlucky, you mean,” he murmured. “You’re far too good for us, Eft. A mere mortal would have happily let this reeking cretin croak long ago.”
But Eft would never do that, Kesst knew very well, even when the orc desperately deserved it — and he leaned in closer, gently sliding his hand up beneath Eft’s tunic, and scraping his long sharp claws against his torso, just the way Eft liked best. And in return, he could feel Eft relaxing a little more, the magic flowing faster and stronger into Ulfarr beneath him, working miracles with its usual breathtaking ease.
So Kesst just stayed there, touching and caressing his brilliant generous mate, pressing the occasional kiss into the back of his neck. Knowing, now, in a way he hadn’t before, that Eft’s anger would still be lurking there deep within, a constant quiet struggle in his outwardly stolid existence — and that left to his own devices, he would keep burying it ever deeper, drowning it in work and hunger and exhaustion. And as much as the vile subjects of Eft’s rage deserved it, Eft certainly didn’t deserve to be stuck in that miserable cycle, either — so Kesst had begun doing everything within his power to head it off before it began. Food and jokes and gossip always helped, but the most consistently effective means he’d found yet were his own devoted affections — and the more blatant, the better.
“He’s got to be almost stable now, right, love?” he murmured now, scraping his claws just a little harder against Eft’s chest, letting his teeth drag lightly against his neck. “How about a quick suck, then? I’m runningverylow on you right now, you must know.”
That was another intriguing new truth he’d learned these past moons — just how much Eft loved Kesst walking around with copious amounts of his own fresh seed inside him. A healer quirk, most certainly, what with Eft being able to feel that seed hidden inside Kesst with every touch and breath. And of course, Kesst was more than willing to oblige Eft in such a devious decadence, another secret indulgence shared just between them — and he’d indeed grown so accustomed to it that he found himself becoming rather sulky and snappy whenever he was deprived.
“Oh, come on, Eft,” he whined into his shoulder, feeling Eft’s magic working harder, faster, finishing up whatever he was doing. “Want to taste you. Want to fill my empty belly with you until I can’t possiblyholdany more.”
Eft huffed a hoarse, deeply satisfying moan, his magic working even more frantically than before — and then it whipped entirely away from Ulfarr, and back toward Kesst, where it belonged. And Kesst purred his eager approval as he yanked Eft close, briefly slipping his tongue into his succulent mouth, revelling in the feel of Eft’s big hands hungrily caressing his bare chest — and then smoothly, swiftly making his way downwards, kissing and licking and nipping as he went, holding Eft’s hazy gaze.
