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Evemer exhaled, slow and shuddering, and whispered, “Please.”
“Good.” Honestly, stopping everything because of grass stains.Of all things.
It was worth it, though, for the absolutely shattered sound Evemer made when Kadou pinned him to the wall by his hips and got his mouth on him. He nearly cracked his head on the wall, and Kadou would have pulled off to tell him, “Careful. And hush,” if he hadn’t been quite so dangerously close to the edge himself just fromhearinghim.
Evemer couldn’t quite stifle all his noises, even when he clapped his own palm to his mouth to muffle them. He kept clenching his free hand in the air by Kadou’s head, or touching Kadou’s hair lightly before snatching his hand away and pressing his palm flat against the stone wall, over and over again until Kadou huffed and pulled Evemer’s hand to his hair. It would have been fine if he’d grabbed it, or pulled a little, or guided Kadou’s mouth the way he wanted it, but all he did was touch gently, petting with shaking hands and the kind of stop-and-start repetition that made Kadou suspect, with some smugness, that he wasn’t thinking at all, that this was just reflex, raw and unfiltered wants too nebulous to resolve into consciousness.
As long as therewasanother instant that followed this one, there would be time later for showing off, for demonstrating every little trick he’d learned, for drawing it out and making Evemer wait for it. Helikedwaiting for it, after all—those first two or three nights after they’d debated loopholes, he’d been enormously content to leave Kadou’s bed unsated.
Time for all of it. All the time in the world, and none of it.
Kadou took the hand that was still gently, helplessly touching his hair and laced their fingers together—that of all things was what seemed to force Evemer over that last shattering edge, his hand clutching Kadou’s hard enough to hurt, panting wildly against his own palm as he came, every muscle locked as tight as steel. It only took the pressure of his own hand through the cloth of his trousers for Kadou to follow, every fiber of him singing in such sheer, giddy delight that he wanted to laugh aloud and dance for it.
Perfect.
He sat back on his heels, grinning and nearly as breathless as Evemer, whose knees finally gave out underneath him. He slid slowly to the ground, eyes closed and head tipped back against the wall. He was so handsome, so gorgeous and wrecked that Kadou couldn’t help but dart forward and kiss his cheek, loving him so fiercely he thought he might die of it.
Evemer, with some effort, cracked his eyes open.
“Hello,” said Kadou, smiling at him.
“Your mouth’s all red,” Evemer said, raising his hand as if it weighed a thousand pounds and brushing the pad of his thumb against Kadou’s lip—he sounded drunk. He sounded like . . .Kadou’s.
“Yes, that happens,” Kadou said, amused. He nipped at Evemer’s thumb. “Can I kiss you?”
Evemer’s eyes fell closed again and his brows knotted up in great, sleepy confusion. “Why in the world wouldn’t you kiss me?”
“Some people don’t like to kiss, after. The taste.”
Evemer gave a deeply disdainful scoff, apparently the only eloquence he was capable of, and reached for him. Kadou laughed and dipped forward; Evemer’s mouth was all soft and slack for him, and Kadou felt another burst of adoring joy. “I can’t move any part of my body at the moment,” Evemer said blearily. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll—for you—”
“Already taken care of,” Kadou said, brushing light kisses across Evemer’s flushed cheeks and sweat-damp brow. “And I owed you a few anyway. Take your time collecting yourself. All is well.”
“Yes, all right,” Evemer said. “Hello.”
“You know, I’m honestly shocked you’re not having more of a crisis right now,” Kadou said, grinning.
What?” Evemer forced his eyes open and peered at him. He felt entirely disconnected from his body, except for the pins-and-needles tingling throughout his brain. He wanted to nap for a year, preferably next to Kadou (hishusband), who was perfect. “Why would I have a crisis?”
“Would you look at the state of me?” Evemer did as he was bid, getting his eyes to focus with some difficulty. Kadou had sat back, pulled his legs from under him, was brushing ineffectually at the grass stains on the knees of his trousers.
Evemer could not, at this moment in time, bring himself to feel more than a twinge of concern—Kadouhadinsisted, after all, and his kaftan was long enough to cover it as long as he didn’t go striding about so the two front panels billowed open to show anything. “I told you that’d happen,” he said. His skin was buzzing, he noticed distantly.
Kadou snorted. “Yes, you did. I suppose my hair’s a mess too.”
“More easily fixed than grass stains.”
Evemer, struggling a little with the concept of balance, leaned forward to finger-comb Kadou’s hair for him. They tidied up as best they could with handkerchiefs dampened in the fountain, did up their clothes, and sat back against the wall side by side. By then, Evemer felt much more like himself, besides the fact that he was brimming with the unfamiliar glow of generalized goodwill and delicious languor.
“There,” Kadou said. “That’s done. You can come up with the rest of your scheme for the year now.”
“Yes,” Evemer said. He felt a possessive sort of satisfaction. He was married, and Kadou was perfect, and . . . really, the rest of the plan could wait fifteen minutes.
“No going back on it.”
“Mm . . . Not without several priests and a lot of bureaucracy. And public spectacle.” Evemer looked at him. “Areyouhaving a crisis?”
“No? Probably not?” Kadou took a breath. “Only a small one. Only theoh, gods, we’re really doing thiskind.”
