His and Aurin’s.
His sweet, sweet Aurin.
Salem had awoken first, and for a moment, he forgot where he was. The ceiling was wrong, the window too tall, the water much closer than it had been in Aurin’s old room in the house he’d shared with Dylan and Hendrix. But then Salem felt thewarm weight against his chest and remembered everything at once.
Aurin was asleep beside him, one arm thrown lazily across Salem’s waist, face buried in the pillow. His blond hair was flattened on one side, his mouth slightly open in a way he would deny if teased about it. The blankets had slipped low during the night, tangled around their legs.
Salem smiled before he could stop himself.
They had spent so long apart that waking beside Aurin still felt almost unbelievable. All those years alone—so, so many years alone—and then the past week or so, he’d been injured and then convalescing, so they hadn’t shared a bed. Oh, they’d gone to bed together after the party with Cern and the forest folk, and they’d certainly made up for lost time...
Aurin had been so amorous from the honey mead and all the dancing, he’d all but begged Salem to take him to bed. It’d been so long, Aurin had cried. He’d missed his touch. He’d needed it. He’d pleaded.
Salem could never deny Aurin anything.
But this morning felt different. A new house, a new start. No more hiding, no more lies.
Salem felt as if a great weight was lifted from his shoulders.
He took a moment to enjoy it; this quiet room and the steady rhythm of Aurin breathing against him.
Carefully, Salem brushed his fingers through Aurin’s hair.
Aurin made a sleepy sound and tightened his hold immediately, instinctive as breathing. “Don’t move,” he mumbled.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Salem laughed softly. “You can’t accuse me of crimes I haven’t yet committed.”
“I can when it’s five in the morning.”
“It’s probably closer to seven.”
“That’s worse.”
Aurin cracked one eye open at last, blinking slowly into the sunlight. For a few seconds, he simply looked at Salem, dazed and warm with sleep. Then his expression softened into something so open, it made Salem’s chest ache.
“We’re here,” Aurin whispered, like he still didn’t quite believe it either.
The words settled between them.
Here. Not visiting, not hiding. Not stealing moments before someone would see. No eye on the door. No hushed conversations. Just slow blinks and long eyelashes catching the sunlight, and a future stretching quietly ahead of them.
Salem touched his cheek. “We’re here.”
Aurin leaned into his hand immediately. “No more hiding.”
“You read my mind.”
“Yeah.” A sleepy grin spread across his face, and Salem couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to his forehead.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hm,” he said. “Dunno. Too early, too sleepy. Too...” Then Aurin made a face. “I don’t know if I’m hungry or still not one hundred percent.”
“I shall get you some breakfast.”
