Vana occupies himself with pouring more hot tea into the mug. He’s slightly flushed, doubtless from the steam. “Let’s see if it works the other way.”
Exactly what Daromir intended to suggest next. They have to test the changes without assumptions. Their pain sharing is equal, but that’s the intended result of the bloodbond ritual. Other sensations might differ, since the changes themselves are unexpected. The normal rules might not apply.
Daromir tries not to wonder if he too would feel Vana touching himself, or if that’s a one-way sharing as well.
They repeat the tests with heat and cold, and come to the same conclusion. Until it hurts, it isn’t shared. “So, pain and pleasure,” Vana says. “This can’t be what our ancestors intended.”
Daromir grimaces. “I’d rather not think about my ancestors.”
Vana is more relaxed now. The academic question broke down his hesitation. He isn’t distant anymore. Daromir is about to ruin that, because there’s one more thing he needs to test.
“The pleasure-sharing is different from the pain-sharing,” Daromir says.
Vana frowns. “What do you mean?”
“The other night, when I was… in the bath, I didn’t realize anything was wrong until you came to the door.” All the willpower in the world can’t erase that memory from the surface of Daromir’s mind. The bathroom fogged with steam and warm water. The tiles smooth beneath him, his mind straying to incoherent images of slim limbs and white hair.
“I know,” Vana says, his ears turning pink. “I know you didn’t realize.”
“That isn’t it,” Daromir says, though he does feel guilty. Just because it wasn’t his fault doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel guilty. Vana begged him not to lay that guilt on him, so Daromir will carry it alone. But that isn’t the point right now. “Everything feltnormal. If it was like the pain-sharing, it would have been halved.”
Vana’s eyes widen. “That’s right. When I felt it, it was hardly… If that was halved, no man could have survived the whole of it.”
“Which means we can’t assume it’s shared both ways,” Daromir says. “There’s a chance I can’t feel your pleasure in return. If that’s the case, there’s no need for us both to… restrain ourselves.”
Vana stares, perfectly composed except for his hand tensing on the table. “How exactly do you propose to test that?”
Daromir hadn’t gotten quite that far. He tries to sound confident. Like this is a normal academic question. A training exercise. “I could leave the room?”
“I’m not doing this,” Vana says with unexpected severity. He shoves to his feet.
Daromir jumps to his feet too. “Something else, then. Something that feels good, that isn’t sexual.”
Vana stands still, poised like a bird on its perch, ready to take off. Then his wings settle. “Like what?”
“Anything that helps you relax. Anything you enjoy.”
Vana regards him, violet eyes dark. There’s a distance between them, and suddenly it feels like a secret. Daromir’s heart quickens when Vana begins unbuttoning his coat.
“Rub my shoulders, then,” Vana says, draping the coat over the back of the chair.
The thin linen shirt obscures the lines of Vana’s limbs. The fabric is loose, yet Daromir knows the shape of Vana beneath it. Daromir moves wordlessly behind Vana and first pushes his hair away. Then he sets his hands on Vana’s shoulder and strokes down his spine.
Daromir has done this thousands of times, but today feels like the first. His hands move on instinct and practice, knowing just where Vana’s muscles tense. Just where the knots form, and exactly how hard he needs to push to loosen them.
Vana sighs with the touch. Daromir isn’t sure how this is better than simply leaving the room while Vana touches himself.
Focus, Daromir tells himself.Focus. Shoulder rubs aren’t sexual. This is an academic experiment. Just because you’ve gotten hard before when you—
“Stop,” Vana says, his voice strangled. He jerks from Daromir’s grasp, yanking his coat up from the chair.
“What’s wrong?” Daromir steps forward instinctively, then stops himself.
Vana yanks on his coat and pulls it tight around himself. “Did you feel anything?”
Daromir exhales. “No.”
“Then you have your answer.” Vana still doesn’t meet Daromir’s eyes. “Maybe it’s Dire magic, or some vulnerability left by the ritual on my eyes. Or all that damned scalestone jewelry. But the pleasure-sharing is just one way.”
