Vana presses an open-mouthed kiss to Daromir’s jaw. “Daro, I’ll let you do anything you fucking want.”
That trust should scare Daromir. But they’ve had it for years. If Daromir stops and thinks too long, he may panic—how many times has guilt held back his thoughts? How many times has he convinced himself this is how every bloodguard feels for his ward?
But in the face of Vana’s truth, Daromir can admit nothing less. He’s loved Vana for years, and a single kiss shattered his every restraint.
“When I felt you jerking off in the bathroom,” Vana pants. “Stopping you was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. I wanted you to keep going forever, imagining your hand on me.”
Daromir groans at the image and bites Vana’s neck.
“Damn it,” Vana whispers. “Please.”
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. But none of that matters. Daromir staggers to the side and presses Vana against the wall. The impact shakes them both through shared sensation, and with the wall taking some of Vana’s weight, Daromir can concentrate on touching him. One hand stays firm beneath Vana’s ass. The other skates up Vana’s torso, mapping out every familiar inch of him.
Vana kisses like he’s been starving for it. Daromir’s lungs heat with the shared air. He’s never gotten so hard so fast, and he doesn’t know if it’s the bloodbond influencing him too, or just how in tune he is with Vana’s body. How much he wants Vana, more than he’s ever wanted anyone before.
Daromir’s cock strains in his trousers as Vana nips at his neck.
“You like to bite, do you?” Daromir asks.
“I’ve thought about this,” Vana says against his neck. “Sharing all the little pains. The pleasure too, now.”
“How long have you been thinking of this without telling me?” Daromir complains.
Vana buries his face in Daromir’s shoulder.
Daromir chuckles. “What else have you been thinking about?”
“Um. I can’t remember.”
“You’re such a good liar,” Daromir teases, and squeezes the firm muscle of Vana’s ass. His voice lowers. “But I’ll let you off the hook for now, because I already have some ideas of my own.”
“Fuck,” Vana yelps as Daromir yanks him away from the wall.
Daromir’s muscles strain, holding Vana upright. Dizzy and aroused beyond belief, Daromir is amazed he has the coordination to carry Vana into their bedroom. Daromir’s bed is closer. He stumbles forward and sets Vana down, half dropping him, half rolling onto the bed with him.
Vana sprawls over the plain gray bedding. His hair shines like silk and moonlight. Daromir presses him down, his fingers tangling in Vana’s long hair. Simply kissing for three more hours sounds incredible, but instead, Daromir breaks away enough to beg, “Can I undress you?”
Vana’s throat bobs. “I said anything you want.”
Daromir doesn’t need any more permission than that. He shuffles gracelessly off the bed and pulls Vana with him until they’re both unsteady on their feet. Thankfully Vana is dressed simply tonight. No complex layers or elaborate buttons like he wears for formal occasions. Kaiskaran robes would be even easier, but Daromir can manage simple trousers and a loose shirt just fine.
It takes long enough anyway, because Daromir stops to kiss each exposed inch of skin. He nuzzles the curve of Vana’s shoulder, and the scent of Vana’s skin is the most erotic thing he’s ever experienced.
Stupidly, Daromir intended to undress Vana as a way to ground himself. How many times has Daromir helped Vana dress or undress over the years? When Vana was exhausted from overusing Dire magic? Daromir thought this familiar act would restore his sanity.
Hardly.
Daromir traces Vana’s chest, running his fingers through the curls of light hair, following muscle and bone downward. Vana’s stomach tenses as Daromir reaches more sensitive places. Vana nearly stops breathing as Daromir unlaces his trousers.
Daromir meets Vana’s eyes and drops to his knees. “You’re so beautiful.”
Vana’s eyes are dark and wondering. He touches Daromir’s jaw. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”
Desire hums between them, electric, magic, true. A thousand fragments of memory fly through Daromir’s head. Pinning Vana to the wall after sparring. Vana flushed with Daromir’s arousal that night. Every other time Daromir’s body has naturally reacted to the gorgeous man in front of him, always praying Vana wouldn’t notice.
Maybe they could have done this years ago, if Vana had noticed. But Daromir doesn’t have any room in his heart for regret right now. He pulls Vana’s trousers from his hips, freeing his cock, which leans up towards his stomach. And Daromir allows himself the exquisite luxury of looking.
Every slim inch of Vana is gorgeous, pink with desire, his head already pushing from his foreskin. His pubic hair is just as fine and starlit-white as the rest of his hair. Daromir wants to touch Vana—but he has another plan.
