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His fingertips pressed into the side of Náli’s throat, other hand tightening against his hip, and Náli knew. Understood all too well the way wanting became something vicious and, long-denied, hated; an enemy in need of conquering rather than a source of delight like it was for people who weren’t necromancers and their sworn shields.
But all of that was going to change, wasn’t it? Náli was going to press his magic into a handful of diamonds and he was going to be free, finally. Free to leave this gray place; free to take up arms for the North.
Free to take the lover of his choosing. At last.
Náli shifted so his lips brushed Mattias’s pulse point, gratified by the quick lurch of it as he wriggled his way into Mattias’s lap properly.
“Náli.” Half warning, half plea.
Náli kissed the apple of his throat. Gripped his shoulders and kept kissing upward, along the bristly underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth, where his breath passed his lips in a hot rush.
“Náli…you need to sleep.”
Náli dragged damp lips up the sharp line of his cheekbone; dropped a kiss at his temple. Whispered in his ear: “So make me sleepy, then.”
Mattias sucked in a harsh breath. A jolt moved through him, one that Náli could feel in every place they touched. His hands spasmed, at Náli’s waist and neck – fighting with instinct, but still hesitating.
Náli shifted again, a slow, deliberate grind down against the front of Mattias’s trousers, and looped both arms around his neck, hovered face-to-face. Mattias had gone glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked, face unguarded and lovely and baffled in the candlelight. He was still trying, adorably, to uphold his vows; to be an honorable captain.
Náli didn’t know if that was a battle he could ever win, pushing past all that ingrained devotion and propriety – but it was a battle he was going to have fun waging, at least. He leaned in, slow, slow, giving Mattias every chance to retreat, until their lips finally met.
His cheeks flared hot, a momentary flash of embarrassment. He knew five ways to kill a man in an instant, and knew how to then turn his corpse into a puppet to command at will…but he didn’t know how to kiss. Or, at least not well. He’d always prided himself on being a fast study, but this was still so new, and so very different from any other skill he’d acquired. He tried to mimic what Mattias had done each time he’d initiated a kiss: angled his head and teased at Mattias’s lips with his own. But slow. Easy. He didn’t, he found, want to rush things when he finally got Mattias to respond. He’d wanted this for so long, and he wanted to savor it, to memorize every detail.
If only Mattias would–
Hands speared back through his hair, cupped his head, adjusted its tilt, and Mattias kissed him back, lush and deep.
Náli melted with relief, went pliant and responsive, letting Mattias take the lead.
All of their kisses had been different, and this one was no exception. Unhurried, thorough, it was if Mattias was trying to learn the shape and taste of his mouth. Luxuriant kisses that didn’t rush; that gave Náli time to learn the rhythm and dance of them.
He raked his teeth over Mattias’s lower lip and earned a low hum of approval.
Sucked on his tongue and got got a raspy groan, and hungry hands sliding down his neck and shoulders to grip him tight at the waist.
Mattias pulled back, their lips parting with a wet sound, noses brushing. His gaze was heavy-lidded, pupils blown black. “Do you know what I want to do to you?” he murmured, voice rough and unsteady, and oh, that was delicious.
“I’ve some idea.” Náli wriggled in his lap just to watch his eyes flutter shut. “But you could always tell me. In great detail.”
Mattias tipped his head, and gazed up at him through lowered lashes. A subtle movement, but one that immediately shifted the flow of energy between them. It was a look Náli had never seen before, not on Mattias and certainly never directed at him. He stilled, pulse skipping and lurching, caught in that lazy, predatory gaze full of intent. For the first time, Mattias looked at him like he might actually touch him with purpose.
And then he did: slow and sure, he unlaced the ties of Náli’s robe and then pushed it back off his shoulders. Gray silk slithered and whispered, and Náli shivered inside the thin linen of his nightshirt. His skin felt hypersensitive, fabric chafing over his stomach, and nipples gone hard and pebble-tight with anticipation. The young and inexperienced part of him wanted to surge forward and bury his face in Mattias’s throat; wanted to feel good, but wanted to hide, too, self-conscious and nervous and so very anxious for this to finally happen.
But the part of him who’d been a lord since birth, expected to stand up straight and lead, held still, fighting to keep his breathing steady, as Mattias bunched up the hem of his nightshirt and laid hands on bare skin.
Familiar calluses, familiar heft and weight…but a wholly new kind of touch, as Mattias traced patterns up his thighs and over his hips. Teased across his stomach with short, blunt nails.
Náli bit the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping, wanting to seem composed and grown-up about this…but he couldn’t keep from trembling, and his breaths refused to come steadily. Why did it feel so different? Why was the pass of Matti’s fingertips suddenly so devastating? He was dizzy – and belatedly realized he needed to exhale and take another breath, the sound of which plucked Mattias’s mouth up into a predatory, pleased grin.
“Náli.” He put a hand at the small of his back and dragged him in closer – and, gods, the friction of Mattias’s trousers against his bare cock brought a whimper up his throat – so their noses were brushing again. “Are you nervous?”
Náli managed to scoff. “More like dying of boredom waiting for you to do something, finally.” His voice wavered despite the words, jittery and unsure.
Mattias’s grin widened, a blurred snatch of teeth at close range. He skimmed Náli’s cheek with his lips, breath warm on his ear. “Really? You don’t feel bored.” Bold as you please, his other hand curled loosely around Náli’s cock. “You feel…” He pressed his smile into the crook of Náli’s neck and gave his cock one long, slow stroke, root to tip. “Like you’re very excited.”
“Gods.” Náli squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to buck up into his hand. How was he doing this? How was he so…very much like the heroes of the tawdry Southern novels his mother had imported by the crateful? Smooth and warm and nearly purring. “What are you – I can – that is…” Mattias was making an absolute mess of him with only his hands and a little heated breath in his ear, and Náli’s face was on fire. “Matti–”
Mattias removed his hands – Náli couldn’t help the twitch of his hips, then, nor the choked-back sound he made at the sudden loss of friction – and captured Náli’s face between them. His smile was half-wicked, half-hopelessly fond. “Náli. Sweetheart. Will you please just admit you don’t know what you’re doing?”
