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The Exarch hummed distractedly to himself as he bustled about setting up the simple kitchen counter with all the sandwich ingredients his dear warrior loved best—dark grained breads, smoked salmon, smoked tea minced fine into chicken, orange tomatoes, leafy greens, seeded mustard…and a great deal more that he’d gradually built up over their moons living together. Of course, he made more complicated dishes sometimes, and so did his love, but the two of them were often so busy with their own affairs that they often didn’t have time to make more creative meals.
As much as he wished otherwise, today was going to be one of those busy days. Evi’a would be returning shortly after a week away aiding with the rebuilding in Kholusia, but their reunion was fated to be short-lived as there was a trade conference hosted by the Crystarium civic leaders to be held shortly after noon. He sighed, wishing he’d planned out his schedule with a little more forethought. He’d gone more than a century living alone and most days he’d managed well enough with his lot, but now that his most dearly beloved was in residence, their quarters felt so empty and quiet when he was away. Of course the caretaker still made do, and they spoke by linkpearl every night, but there was nothing like sleeping pressed up warm and firm against his warrior at night.
And nothing was quite like the dedicated manner in which the Keeper ardently reminded him that he was loved and cherished, that his body was still desirable, still capable of both pitched fervor and warm satiety after all these years of static nothingness. Although he’d been shy at first, over the unexpected moons granted them, he’d found himself relaxing into his love’s touch and gradually growing very attached to being the subject of such intimate physical affection. Of late he often found himself with a wandering mind, wistfully looking forward to deft fingers playing across his bare skin, kisses feathering over warm crystal and then lower still…and when the bard was away, he felt the loss keenly.
But Evi’a would be returning soon, and though they might have to wait a while for a decent bit of time to themselves, the knowledge that they would be in one another’s arms before the end of the day made his heart flutter and his tail flick with anticipation.
The sandwiches were almost done when the crystal and filigree door swung to admit Evi’a, dusty and windswept from the road.
“I’m back!” he announced with a grin, shrugging off his leather pack and tossing it unceremoniously onto the reading sofa as he was wont to do.
“So you are,” the Exarch said warmly, setting down the condiment knife to pad over to the entrance and wrap his arms around his warrior.
“Oh, you shouldn’t, I really need a wash,” the Keeper said self-consciously, even as he moved to enthusiastically return the embrace.
“Hmm, you know I don’t care about that,” he said, happily burying his face in the man’s shoulder, taking in the scents of sweat and smoked tea, of musk and journeying and hard work. Maybe Evi’a did need a wash, but there was something so intoxicating about the smell of him after he returned from his travels. It brought to mind love and life, initiative and change, hope and victory. He didn’t think he would ever tire of the scent of his warrior when he physically returned to their life together after a span of time spent apart.
“Yes, I know,” the Keeper murmured into his hair, then gave a playful nip at his ear that made him jump. “I’ve missed you very much.”
“And I you,” the Exarch said with a smile, leaning back to rejoice in finally, finally being able to meet those sparkling navy eyes whenever he wished. So help him, he would never wear a hood again for as long as he lived. They stared at one another for a long, sweet moment before the Keeper reached up to tenderly cup the caretaker’s face, then swiped his thumbs across freckled cheeks as he closed in for a gentle kiss. When they broke apart, he found himself pushing up onto his tiptoes to chase more, which his warrior gladly obliged. He sighed as a night sky hand moved away and down to press into the small of his back, and the other reached up to carefully smooth back his downturned ears.
Ah, how very much he wanted to allow this to continue, but they both needed to eat and get ready. Gently, he pulled away from the kiss and pressed a lingering bunt under his warrior’s chin.
“I’m making us some sandwiches—I thought you might be hungry,” he said, indicating the counter with an incline of his head.
“Oh, I’m hungry for a few things,” the Keeper smiled, eyes crinkled with mischief as he ran elegant fingers lower to give the Exarch’s tail a suggestive tug. He gave a twitch of surprised appreciation, but resolutely pulled away.
“Not right now,” he said amiably. “Lest you forget, you requested to come to today’s trade gathering, and your presence is greatly anticipated.”
“Yes, I know,” the Keeper sighed, then blinked. “Are you…wearing an apron?”
“Ah, is this the first time you’ve seen it?” he asked, running a thoughtful hand over the cloth’s frilled borders. “I’ve had it for years. I try to wear it when I cook, but of late I keep forgetting,” he explained as he moved back to the counter to resume putting the last of the sandwiches together.
“I never expected to see you in something quite like this,” Evi’a said with amusement, plucking at the apron’s ruffled bow. The Exarch paused briefly in his work with a chuff of laughter as his warrior wrapped strong arms around his waist and pressed against him from behind. “This is really adorable,” the bard said, rubbing a cheek affectionately against the top of his head, then moving over to nip at his ears again. He made a low sound in his throat, a blush rising to his cheeks despite himself at the affection, the way the Keeper fit just so against him. It was such an effort not to push back into that touch, but they didn’t have time, they didn’t.
“Are you putting jam on the ham sandwich?” Evi’a asked quizzically over his shoulder, and he froze when he realized he was doing just that.
“So I am,” he acknowledged, “but as it happens, raspberry jam and cured ham go very well together.”
“Do they?” his warrior snickered, nuzzling at his ears. “Am I distracting you?”
“What do you think?” he asked with a helpless smile, bunting up and back against Evi’a’s chin. “Believe me, I should be very glad to indulge us both, but truly, we don’t have time,” he reiterated, tail smacking playfully against the bard’s legs.
“Can I just say one more thing?” the Keeper asked innocently.
“Yes, if you must,” he returned with mock exasperation, bunting upwards again.
“You’d look amazing in this apron and nothing else,” his warrior purred against his ears.
“Lyna made this apron for me when she was a girl,” he answered wryly, and couldn’t help laughing when the Keeper jumped away as though scalded.
“Gods!” Evi’a squawked, a blush rising to highlight his freckles. “That, uh…forget I said anything,” he fumbled, running a hand through his mussed hair. The Exarch dared to throw him a sharp smile.
“Oh, I’ll keep it in mind—I’m sure I can find another apron, after all. Now go, wash up! It won’t do for us to be late.”
And so after the Keeper took a quick shower and pulled on a pair of form-fitting trousers, they passed their lunch swapping stories they hadn’t managed to get to over the linkpearl and enjoying quiet moments of companionship as their conversation fell into natural lulls. It was in one such hush that Evi’a’s gaze turned pensively inwards, and the Exarch found himself caught between wondering what was on his love’s mind and staring appreciatively at the Keeper’s bare chest.
“Would you…care to play a game with me?” the bard finally asked tentatively, traces of bashfulness and challenge mingling in his serious expression.
“A game?” he asked blankly. Where had this come from, all of a sudden? “I suppose…what sort of game? Triple Triad, perhaps?” He remembered how much Evi’a had enjoyed playing with Rammbroes, all those years ago on the Syrcus Tower expedition. The Keeper gave an uncharacteristic fidget, ears twitching.
“I, uh, read about this once, in a romance tome lent me by a friend, and I always thought…” He stopped, and shook his head before starting over. “You said we don’t have time for each other before the meeting, right?”
“I…did,” he said slowly, eyes widening a touch as he realized the direction this was heading. “I suppose we could manage, but I just wanted…I want time to enjoy it properly,” he admitted, color rising to his cheeks as well.
“As do I…but I was just thinking, perhaps we could make use of the shorter moments we have as well? We have, what, a third of a bell until we have to be out the door? There’ll be a break in the meeting too. The, uh, the idea is, by the time we get to the part where we have considerable time to ourselves, it should be…” the Keeper trailed off, embarrassed.
“…Quite charged,” the Exarch finished for him, mouth dry. “I…I’m guessing, the challenge in this is that we don’t, ah…”
“Yeah…not until we actually have time,” the Keeper acknowledged softly. “To be honest, I don’t know how good this will truly be, but the story made it sound very, er…” He waved his hand nebulously in the air. “Do you want to try? It’s okay if you don’t, or if you need time to consider.”
“Oh, I’ll try,” he found himself saying before he could overthink, pleased with the stunned look on the bard’s face at his instant capitulation. His warrior asked for things so very rarely, and if his love wanted to play a game where they spent every moment of their free time with their hands on each other, how could he possibly refuse? It sounded risky, and possibly ill-advised…but it also combined an exciting challenge with a fun stroke of whimsy, both of which he had not enjoyed nearly enough in the last century. And if they failed their own test, no one would know but them. Well, if they could hide it properly, at any rate.
“Right…right,” the Keeper said slowly, clearly still half caught in disbelief as he gracefully rose from his chair. “Then I suppose we’d best not waste any time,” he continued in a low voice, fingers skimming across the polished tabletop as he approached. The Exarch bit his lip and made to stand, but a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him back down. “You stay there, if you don’t mind,” the Keeper said softly, bending down to catch the caretaker’s mouth in a kiss. The angle was a bit odd, but he didn’t mind so much…he’d spent most of the week aching after this tenderness, this reminder that he was wanted. He made a noise of loss as the Keeper pulled away, then groaned with realization when his love dropped to his knees in front of him.
“Y-you can’t be serious,” he murmured, leaning back and covering his face as his warrior gently bumped aside his legs to settle between them. “You…you haven’t even dressed yet.” When he peeked through his fingers he could just see Evi’a pause in the midst of lifting up his robes, lust and amusement mingling in his narrowed eyes.
“Do you really want me to go and put on a shirt right now?” he teased. “I can if you want.”
“…No,” he sulked, reaching out to tweak at a flicking ear as the Keeper grinned and pushed his robes the rest of the way up. Gods, it wasn’t fair how beautiful his warrior was, how—
He gasped and squirmed, mind blanking and heart pounding as thumbs pressed against his inner thighs with clear intent, and the very tips of Keeper fangs began to graze delicately down his stomach. He tried to be still, but couldn’t help scooting down and canting his hips just a little as those thumbs worked their way up, massaging in slow circles just to the side of where he needed them. Finally, they moved up to hook into the band of his shorts, and he lifted his hips, expecting his love to free him—but jerked helplessly instead when the bard trailed his fangs lower to nuzzle and mouth at his clothed hardness. He couldn’t help the little sounds that tore from him as his love worked—sweet Azeyma, it had been over a week, and he was so sensitive. How was he going to manage this?
He took in a steadying breath as the Keeper pulled back and gently freed him from his shorts, the air bracingly cool against heated skin until he was taken lightly in hand.
“You doin’ alright?” Evi’a asked, voice a bit strained as he looked up through silvery eyelashes.
“Mmhm,” he affirmed faintly, pleased with the effect this was also having on his love, with how much power he had even when he was just sat back and enjoying the bard’s ministrations. They regarded one another quietly for a moment through heavy lidded eyes, and a puff of joyful laughter escaped him as his warrior surged up to claim his mouth again with a passionate kiss.
“You’re so beautiful,” Evi’a growled, pulling back a touch to lick and nip at his lower lip before claiming him again, tail lashing. He shuddered and cried out into the kiss, sinking uncomfortably lower into the creaking chair as the Keeper’s hand tightened around him and began a slow and steady rhythm.
“Mn..ah! I…” he gasped as a thumb came up to play at his head and fangs wandered down to the warm crystal at his neck. He needed to thrust into those cajoling tugs, and badly, but the position to which he’d sunk in his pleasure made it difficult to brace himself. He jolted helplessly as the bard gave a rather artful flick of his wrist, and finally with a growl of his own dug his heels into the floor and snapped his hips up.
They both yelped as the chair tipped backwards precariously, and Evi’a quickly pulled away before it could go over with the both of them. They stared at each other for a moment, then broke into breathless laughter.
“Sorry, I…I was just trying to push myself up again,” he worked out around giggles, petting Evi’a’s ears where the bard’s head rested in his lap.
“Yeah, I was probably leaning forward too much as well,” the Keeper said with a chagrined smile, turning his head enough to press apologetic kisses to the freckles of the mage’s inner thigh. The Exarch took a shaky breath, eyeing the chronometer.
“We…We should probably stop anyway. You still need to get dressed.”
“But I didn’t get to do the thing I really wanted to do,” his love pouted, regarding him with pleading eyes. His heart clenched at the sight—how he loved this man, and that this singular attention was directed his way.
“J-just a little bit, then,” he acquiesced, and smiled at the way the Keeper’s ears perked happily—then gave a stuttering gasp and gripped hard at the chair for purchase as he was taken all the way in without a hint of preamble. It was such an effort not to thrust as his warrior’s warm mouth worked at him, and when he began to slowly and deliberately pull up, the caretaker couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped him, nor the cry that burst from his lips as the Keeper finally pulled off of him with a sound just short of obscene. Evi’a’s hands quickly moved to offer soothing caresses along his thighs, giving him something to concentrate on as his vision swam back into focus.
“Love watching you enjoy that,” the Keeper murmured, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face as he struggled to regain his breath. “Can I do it again?”
“Mmm, yes,” he murmured emphatically, not particularly caring if it were wise at the moment as he leaned forward to stroke with trembling fingers at the bard’s ears. His love gasped, mouth falling open to reveal those beautiful fangs, and it was all the Exarch could do not to jerk him forward.
“Twice more,” Evi’a said, blinking hazily, “…any more than that and I don’t think we’ll be able to stop.” He wanted to say something clever in response, but the bard was already licking a teasing path up his length that had him perched tense and expectant on the edge of his seat.
“Ah!” he cried, pitching forward as the Keeper lapped at the tip for a moment before that sweet mouth closed over him and worked slowly down. “Mm…ah…if…if you…I…hn!” His hips twisted as the bard pulled off again, and he panted as he leaned forward, fingers clenching and unclenching on his love’s shoulders as he worked to restrain himself.
“Are you…are you going to make it through one more?” the Keeper asked breathlessly, nuzzling at his thighs, at the base of his twitching member. The Exarch took a deep, steadying breath, his stubborn streak rearing up proud and strong. He couldn’t back down now, not so early in their play.
“Yes,” he said through grit teeth, and this time leaned back and grasped hard at the chair’s back, willing himself to concentrate on the wooden corners jutting into his palms as the bard sank down on him. It was good, it was so good, but he thought of the wood grain pressing into his back, the dull pain of his lashing tail thumping against the chair’s legs…and barely, just barely, managed to hold himself together when his love pulled off again and followed with an exceptionally fetching swirl of his tongue. He trembled as the bard reached up to run calming hands down his chest and stomach, arcing despite himself as his love’s hands skirted past where he needed them and down to his thighs to gently pull his shorts back up. When Evi’a cupped hands at his bottom and gave an experimental tug, he slid down wordlessly to straddle the Keeper’s lap and rest his head against the man’s shoulder, raggedly concentrating on the beautiful thrum of his heartbeat as he composed himself and willed his world to realign properly.
“A-are you going to be alright with this?” Evi’a asked softly after a moment, one arm firm around his waist while the other hand reached up to stroke at his hair. Ah, he didn’t miss that hitch in his warrior’s voice, and he wanted to hear so much more of that before the day was done.
“Yes, I…I think so,” he breathed, nuzzling at his love’s neck. Gods, he craved the man so badly, and the way their clothed lengths pressed together in this position was not helping. Gingerly he pulled back just enough to put some space between them and reached down with a faltering grin to palm at the bard through his trousers, immensely taken with how Evi’a’s breath stuttered under the attention. “And how are you holding up, my dear one?” he asked knowingly, raising an eyebrow.
“Not for much longer if you keep doing that,” the Keeper said with a strained smile, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. The Exarch bumped noses with him and gave a final squeeze before removing his hand in favor of looping his arms loosely around the bard’s shoulders. One of the first things he’d learned about his dear one in bed was that Evi’a took immense pleasure in giving, his empathetic Echo strongly attuned to his lover’s enjoyment. As such the Keeper tended to not have much stamina left after a round of foreplay…which made it interesting that he’d suggested such a challenge. The Exarch raised his eyebrows with amused realization. If the man thought he was going to spend the day accosting his older lover with attention without being targeted himself, he was sorely mistaken.
“We’re going to be late,” Evi’a murmured presently, when he’d found his voice again.
“Only a little,” the Exarch said, leaning in to brush a kiss against the Keeper’s lips. “You know, I thought…That is, in games like this, isn’t there supposed to be a safe word?” he ventured, willing the blush away. Perhaps they’d never done anything so adventurous, but this was nothing he need be embarrassed about.
“How do you…you know what, never mind,” Evi’a chuckled, shaking his head. “If you hadn’t read about that sort of thing somewhere in over a hundred years of life I think that would be more cause for wonder.”
“Ha! To be honest though, I came upon that knowledge back when we were on the expedition together,” he admitted, looking away shyly despite himself.
“Oh?” the Keeper asked, raising an eyebrow and giving him an inquisitive bounce. This time, he did not hold the blush at bay.
“Never mind about that,” he said hastily. “This challenge you’ve thought up is about as much as either one of us can handle right now. Another time,” he said, soothing his love’s ears with his thumbs.
“Oh, alright…but I will ask again later! As for a safe word, what would you like? And if you say Allag, I’m going to laugh,” the Keeper grinned.
“Not Allag!” he insisted, ears pinning—even though that was exactly what he’d been planning to offer. “How about..hmm…starlight? It’s…it’s what I think of when I see you…” he trailed off, looking away with a crooked smile. Certainly more embarrassing than his initial choice, but true nonetheless. He took a halting breath as dark fingers brushed against his cheek, and when he chanced to look up the Keeper was regarding him with such an open, tender expression that he had to lean in for a kiss. He couldn’t get enough, it was never going to be enough, and before either one of them could register what was happening they were flush together, fingers tangled in one another’s hair and kissing as though their lives depended on it.
“The meeting…”he ventured weakly, arcing in to nibble at his love’s neck and shivering as his ears enjoyed similar attention.
“Can’t you reschedule?” the bard gasped plaintively, though they both knew better.
“Come now, what about your challenge?” he scolded breathlessly, even as he ground their hips together and delighted in the friction between them, the way the Keeper rolled into him and pulled him closer. “Are you giving in so soon?”
“No,” the bard moaned, and with obvious effort disentangled his hands and scooted back. “I…I’ll go get dressed,” he managed, stumbling a bit as he stood. The Exarch gave a huff of amused frustration and took the hand the bard offered him to pull himself up.
“This was your idea,” he teased, breath still short as he struggled to clear the haze.
“Sure was,” Evi’a acknowledged, leaning in for a clumsy kiss. The Exarch groaned into the contact, gave his lover a playful push backwards.
“Sweet Azeyma, go put on some clothes, before we both have to spend too much time skirting around why we’re late!”
He couldn’t remember when last he’d wanted a gathering to end so badly, or that time had moved so slowly. On any other day he would have approached the prospect of forging new agreements with Kholusia and Amh Araeng with immense welcome in his heart. For how long had he pushed for this cooperation and camaraderie, only to come up against the harsh reality that was life on the First? But now, for the first time dedicated land trade routes could open without the danger of being beset by eaters, and the people of the First shared a common goal of unfettered rebuilding and renewal. It was so welcome to hear the hope in everyone’s voices, the excitement and entrepreneurial spirit.
Although, he thought as his eyes wandered to where his warrior spoke with a few senior members of the revived Daedalus Stoneworks, he might have been distracted even without the heat pooling low in his stomach and the glances Evi’a sent his way when the bard thought no one was looking.
After much internal struggle, he’d made a working peace with his conclusion that he’d done his part for the First. What he’d come to accomplish, the task for which he had toiled and suffered…it was done. Of course he had work to do as far as getting the Scions home, a cause to which he was very dedicated, but as to where he belonged, what he would do with the rest of his life…he meant to find that at the Keeper’s side, and was working diligently toward that goal. And so, as happy as this occasion might be, ultimately the people of the First were more than able solve their problems without him, and whatever the outcome of these talks, it would not be a part of his personal future for much longer.
He smiled affectionately to himself as he looked to Evi’a, who appeared to be trying his best to engage in the talks with good humor. Luckily the Keeper had his more confident stage persona to fall back on, though his tail was very twitchy and he’d undone the top buttons of his striking navy coat a good half bell ago. It took some effort to tear his eyes away from that narrow strip of bared skin, but he blinked away the haze and willed his attention back to the present. Perhaps it was time for that break the bard had mentioned—a bell or so had passed, and they could both do to get away from prying eyes, even if just for a moment.
And so after calling for a one third bell reprieve, he motioned Evi’a to his side, and they took the stairs down and out of the Pendants meeting room side by side without a word until they reached the aetheryte.
“Where to?” Evi’a asked in a low voice, and he answered,
“Downstairs garden,” just as low and urgent.
Within moments they appeared just inside the entrance of their private walled enclosure near the Sweetsieve, and with a mutual noise of frustration fell into one another’s arms.
“Whose foolish idea was this?” Evi’a grumbled good naturedly, burying his face in the Exarch’s hair as he leaned back against the locked garden doors.
“All yours,” he hummed, reaching down to cup appreciatively at the bard’s obvious continued interest.
“HmmMmm,” was the reply he got as the Keeper’s eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back to rest on interworked wood and crystal. “Gods, why are you so fetching? You’ve done aught but talk about trading fish for an entire bell and still your voice is ending me,” the bard said hoarsely, canting his hips into the touch. The Exarch blushed, grateful to finally be able to give to what he’d truly been thinking of this past interminable bell, and with a fluttering heart nuzzled at his love’s neck.
“Ending you? I should hope not, otherwise you’ve already lost your own game,” he teased. Ah, to be the subject of this formidable man’s desire, to have his beloved warrior of light and darkness pinned up against his garden gates and trembling under his touch…he couldn’t recall when last he’d felt so mighty. With newfound daring and a deftness born of moons of practice, he reached down one hand to work open the ties of his love’s trousers while the other snagged into silvery hair and tugged the Keeper down for a kiss.
“Ah! I-if you do that, I…” the bard gasped into his mouth, giving a helpless thrust as he was taken in hand. He had to take a steadying breath to master himself as well, the Keeper’s length flushed and dark, heated and heavy against his palm, the head already slick where his thumb brushed at the slit as he worked. The sounds the bard was making right at the tips of his ears were intoxicating, and within short order he found himself nearly as hard and ready as he had been in their quarters. A wild thought came upon him that the gazebo might be more comfortable if they were going to continue—but looking up at Evi’a’s rapt face, his lips parted just enough to show his fangs…
No, if they went any further than this, they wouldn’t be able to stop. They didn’t have time. Not yet.
“Raha,” the Keeper entreated shakily, hips rolling desperately. “Really, I’ll…”
Gods, did the man have to say his name like that?
He growled and nipped hard at his warrior’s exposed collarbone, fierce in his restraint as he made himself withdraw and pull the bard’s trousers up with a sharp tug that earned him a shuddering cry.
“You’re mine,” he purred, caution thrown to the wind in the wake of his desire, in dark revelry at having this incredible man at his mercy, at saying what he wished because now he could. “You’re mine, and as soon as this meeting is over…” He couldn’t finish, too entranced with the way Evi’a’s expression shifted from surprise to a yielding smolder as the mage worked at re-tying his trouser laces. As soon as he finished he rose on his tiptoes and pulled his inspiration down by the ears for a searing kiss, fighting the urge to grind them together with all his might.
Then, with a disconcerting suddenness, something in his stomach swooped and gave, and the heady lust between them shifted into an ache of a different nature, painful and bittersweet. A distressed noise tore from him, and he wrapped his arms around the Keeper’s waist to ground himself.
“You’re mine,” he breathed faintly into Evi’a’s shoulder, letting himself be held as his hands clenched into the bard’s back. “You’re mine, you’re mine…”
“I am,” Evi’a whispered into his hair, reading the change in mood quickly. “Ever and always. I love you. I’m here.” They held each other in silence for a while, letting themselves be soothed by the peacefulness of the world around them—cool wind on their skin, the sun filtering through the trees, the notes of birdsong in the air.
“Was this maybe a little much to start with?” the bard finally asked, contrition wavering into his tone. “Perhaps we should have waited for a day when we weren’t so busy.”
“No, I just…I j-just got overwhelmed for a moment, that’s all. I’m fine, I can wait. I won’t let you hurt me with this, I promise,” he replied gently, nuzzling at the Keeper’s chest, taking comfort in his familiar scent, the strength of his heartbeat. “How…how are you? Perhaps I…got carried away,” he admitted, ears half pinned with embarrassment.
“You,” Evi’a said, tilting his chin up with careful fingers to look him in the eyes, “…you could have destroyed me with that tone of voice alone, much less those words.” His very soul went light at the sheer love and tenderness in the bard’s eyes, the heady lust battling with pleased discovery. “I love it when you speak your mind, and that was…” The Keeper gave a chuff of laughter, bumped their noses together. “You’re mine, too,” he finished with a crooked smile, leaning back in for a soft kiss that ended with them studying one another intently.
“Let’s get this meeting finished,” the Exarch finally murmured, reaching up to gently brush the Keeper’s hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
After another bell of making the rounds among the travelers and tradesmen, the Exarch began to appreciate that this affair was going to take until dinner, and possibly beyond. People were laughing and chatting animatedly about future possibilities, making plans for drinks, drawing up informal contracts…in short, they were happy and full of potential ready to burst into bloom, and it gladdened his heart to see it.
That said, after their most recent tryst in the garden, it was becoming a considerable struggle for both himself and Evi’a to feign real interest in the topics at hand. It was very difficult to discuss the finer points of bluespirit processing when all he could think of was how much he wanted the bard’s hands on him, that heated length inside him and hitting just so, right there, gods. He was extremely grateful that he was wearing robes, and was glad for Evi’a’s sake that the man had chosen to wear a jacket that covered his condition as well. At this point they didn’t dare look at one another…he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide how he felt if he met the bard’s eyes, and while their relationship was public and familiar to the Crystarium, there were some things he’d rather keep just between them. As the sun began to lower, he surmised that the meeting could go on just as well without them.
And so it was that he wished everyone well and artfully extracted a grateful Evi’a from what looked to be a pending escort mission for a band of relic hunters. After what felt an age, they managed to conclude their goodbyes and did their best to beat a hasty retreat without trying to appear anxious to get away.
“Was beginning to wonder how long you meant us to stay,” Evi’a muttered as they manifested at the Dossal Gates aetheryte. “If I don’t put my hands on you soon…”
“Oh, the feeling is quite mutual, I assure you,” he replied as they walked side by side up the stairs. “Now, make an effort to look thoughtful and serious.”
“Wh-?” the bard started to say as they reached the top, but the caretaker was already waving to the gatekeep.
“Evening milord, thought you’d be occupied for a while yet,” the man said with raised eyebrows. “Talks end early?”
“Indeed I will be occupied—other matters have arisen that demand my attention,” he replied, willing his ears not to twitch at Evi’a’s poorly stifled snort of laughter behind him. “Forgive me, but this is important work, and I must ask that you let potential visitors know that emergencies aside, we are not to be disturbed.”
“Of course, milord, as you wish,” the gatekeep said genially, offering him a bemused salute. He nodded and turned to stride into the Ocular, willing the doors shut as the Keeper safely entered behind him. As soon as the latch clicked the bard broke into laughter, and the Exarch gasped as powerful hands latched around his waist and swept him in a circle.
“If you think that fellow doesn’t know what’s happening here, have I got news for you,” Evi’a grinned as they slowed to a stop. The smaller miqo’te huffed, tail lashing as a blush rose to burn hot in his cheeks.
“It might have gone well if you could have contained yourself,” he said with fond exasperation, burying his head in his love’s chest.
“With all due respect, I’ve been containing myself for several bells now, forgive me if I’m starting to lose my patience,” the bard said airily, and he couldn’t help breaking into laughter himself…and turning his mirth into a high pitched gasp of need as the Keeper nibbled a line along the edge of one ear.
“You were the one who suggested this…ah! I’d think you’d…you’d…” he trailed off as a thumb pressed and rubbed meaningfully against where he very much wanted a much deeper touch, and preferably soon.
“Take us upstairs?” Evi’a whispered against his ears, close to being a command but not quite there, just enough questioning to allow him to take some time if he needed.
He didn’t bother with replying, and within a few spare seconds they were at the threshold of the Tower garden, stumbling as they tried to make their way across the latticed crystalline bridge over the bathing ponds to the nest-like bed at the far end of the enclosure. At some point Evi’a’s coat got shrugged off into the water on accident, and a bit later they both tripped over the outer layers of his discarded robes and nearly fell in themselves. By the time they made it to the bed the Keeper was left only in his trousers, while he had been reduced to his shorts and sandals. Extremely distracted, he tried to bend down to unlatch the clasps of his footwear, but the back of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled backwards into the sheets with a surprised yelp, then laughed with delight as the Keeper followed him down.
Ah, how good it was to be happy and in love, to have their fingers interlaced as they peppered brief kisses wherever they could reach, reveling in the firmness and warmth of having one another near. The weight of his love atop him was so solid, so welcome and grounding and real. Gradually their kisses slowed into heavy tenderness, punctuated with brief pauses to withdraw and study one another intently before moving back in to explore, to graze over freckles and hairline scars with fervent appreciation. At some point they began rolling their hips into one another, and Evi’a’s kisses began to trail down his neck, an oh-so-lightly burred tongue darting out to taste at the crystal he found there.
“Mm…” the Exarch finally let escape, unable to keep his silence any longer. Sweet Azeyma but he wanted, and if the Keeper kept grinding at him like that, he was going to have waited all that time just to finish in his shorts. His love puffed a sigh against his neck, then released his hands and pushed up to look down at him, pupils dilated wide with need.
“Maybe time to get out of these clothes?” the bard ventured.
“Yes, I should think so,” he answered, mouth dry as he struggled to focus.
“Let me,” his warrior whispered, rising up to slide off of the bed and divest himself of his trousers and underclothes in one graceful movement. The Exarch took a shaky breath at the sight of his disrobed lover, that beautiful length…oh, how he wanted to put his hands and mouth on that, to have the Keeper pressing hard and strong inside him...he twitched just thinking of it, and tried to still his thoughts lest he embarrass himself. But gods did Evi’a look good at his bedside, dappled in muted sunlight and framed in the most beautiful flora the First had to offer. It felt as though they were in some distant, wild paradise made just for them…and come to think, perhaps that’s what this garden was become after all. It was certainly a good ways from the blighted land in which they’d first laid eyes on one another.
“This is a fine look,” the Keeper murmured with a faint grin. “Sandals and underwear, I like it. But still,” he said, falling to his knees to hook his fingers in the waistband of the Exarch’s shorts, “—these have to go. Off, off, off,” he sang as he worked them down, and the caretaker cried out as his love swooped down to lap at the slick evidence of his excitement as the offending undergarment was discarded.
“Oh….oh! Don’t,” he pleaded, squirming as he tangled his fingers in the Keeper’s hair to stop him. “I won’t last, not this time.” The bard took a deep breath and pulled away, purred hard against his thigh, and just that was nearly enough to send him over. He was still panting for breath when Evi’a rose again to gaze down at him, and the sight of the fluid forming tip of his lover’s length had him licking his lips to wet them.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so eager in his life.
“Ah, what a sight you are…but c’mon, let’s get rid of these,” the bard murmured, and for a blessing the man was quick about unlatching the clasps of his sandals and gently working them off. And then, finally, his love was back in bed with him, straddling his thighs and looking down at him with undisguised want.
“What would you like?” Evi’a asked as he trailed fingers down over pale, freckled hips. The caretaker took a breath, knowing this was not meant as a tease but a genuine question. Personally he usually tended to favor being on the receiving end, but the bard understood well that there were times that he greatly enjoyed feeling his lover heated and firm around him.
Today, however, he’d pondered no few times how sweet it would be to have the Keeper deep within him, and the ghost of sensation from his love’s earlier teasing in the Ocular still lingered.
“I want you inside me,” he said quietly, for once not embarrassed with requesting such an act so directly. After the events of the day, he was rather beyond that bashfulness. Evi’a briefly raised his eyebrows at the straightforwardness, but then his expression melted into one of love and affection so deep that it ached as he leaned down to bunt their foreheads together, claimed him with a gentle kiss.
“I’m going to have to get you ready then, can you be patient?” the Keeper whispered.
“No, but I’ll try,” he answered with a crooked grin, angling up for another kiss before the Keeper rose to rummage in the bedside dresser.
He found himself studying the play of muscles in Evi’a’s back as the taller miqo’te moved, the scars climbing from his right thigh up to his hip, the way the tip of his luxurious tail flicked with anticipation. After over a century of waiting and biding his time, sometimes he felt his reservoirs of patience were nearly run dry…especially when the dearest love of his life was always just within his reach. To not have to be cautious and reticent, to want and to actually get what he wanted…more and more he was finding he liked that very much, that his capacity for sagely asceticism was at a critical low. But in a way, it soothed him that the Keeper should make a game of holding back, that it should manifest as a new and delightful way for them to enjoy one another. That patience should be a frivolous confection of a choice, and not a crushing responsibility with dire consequences should he fail.
He sat up thoughtfully, pulled the band from his braid and combed fingers through his hair such that it flowed in free waves down his shoulders, then rolled over onto his stomach and scooted his knees up to grant better access. They’d only made love like this once, and he’d felt very foolish at first back then…but the angle was incredible, and he wanted that again very much. Perhaps another day when he was more composed he would find himself abashed once more, but at present he was determined to enjoy desiring and actually having that desire fulfilled.
The Keeper’s ears perked as he turned with the vial in hand and took in the Exarch’s position.
“Would this be acceptable?” he asked, swishing his tail playfully as he rested his head in his arms and fixed his lover with what he hoped came off as a ‘come hither’ expression.
“More than, if you’re comfortable with it,” Evi’a answered with a chuff, reaching out to run a warm hand down his back, over the curves of his bottom. “Gods, you’re stunning…and have I mentioned I love these freckles?” He smiled as the Keeper moved out of his sight and behind him, shifting to find a good position.
“You may have, a few times,” he said fondly, heart heavy with love even as it picked up with anticipation of what was to come. “I’m also very taken with your—ah!” He jolted and cried out, burying his head in his arms as the bard licked a definitive stripe right up delicate paper-thin skin to where he was most sensitive, one thumb brushing at the soft spot under his tail. He jerked and squirmed as the Keeper persisted, incoherent noises tumbling from his lips as that tongue lapped and swirled and delved, as he helplessly thrust into nothing.
“W…wait…!” he finally managed, and angled toward that sweet mouth as it moved away even though he’d asked for the reprieve. “I…I think you may find I d-don’t require that much encouragement,” he noted breathlessly, pressing his forehead into the sheets just for some kind of distraction from the overwhelming lust that threatened to consume him. Every nerve in his body was alight, and he trembled with the effort of calming himself, tail rigid with concentration, hands kneading instinctively at the mattress. “Please, please, can we just…?”
“Okay, just a minute, let me…” the Keeper murmured, shifting his position to run a reassuring hand down the Exarch’s back while the other finally, finally pressed a slick finger into him and began to slide it in and out, a promise of things to come. He cried out and sang, tail lashing as he pushed backwards into the touch, as the Keeper worked another finger in, and then another. When his love finally changed the angle and struck him just so, the pure note of his cry echoed off crystalline walls, and his legs nearly collapsed under him. He almost sobbed when those fingers left him, but within moments the Keeper was positioned over him, crooning soothing nothings into his ears as he slowly, carefully pushed in at the most perfect angle he could have ever managed.
Time seemed to slow to a halt as they stilled themselves, panting and struggling for composure, dimly mindful that they were supposed to be holding back. After a long pause, his love pulled out, then struck back in, once more at the perfect angle. He yelped, clenched at the sheets, shaking and afire with need, yet still stubbornly desperate to do their game justice. Another strike, and his back arched, ears pinned and trembling with the effort to contain himself, lips parted in a wordless effort of restrained bliss.
A groan escaped him as his love leaned close over him and ran a clever tongue over the shell of his left ear.
“Feel good?” the Keeper whispered, and the combination of love, tentativeness, and smug breathed right into his ear snapped the frayed remains of his willpower in twain.
With a sharp growl, he slammed backwards hard—once, twice, three times, and had the very brief satisfaction of his love’s breathy cry of surprise against his neck and liquid heat blooming within him. Then he could only cry out himself as a slick hand shakily reached up to wrap firmly around his straining length, and with just a few delirious strokes brought him to a white hot completion so profound that he lost all sense of time and presence as he shuddered and sang, arcing and spilling into his lover’s knowing touch.
When he sleepily came to, he found himself on his side with no memory of how he got there, Evi’a curled up close and warm behind him, still pressed in deep. He groaned as the arm around his waist tightened and the Keeper carefully withdrew, the loss an emptiness that his lover soothed by nuzzling at his neck, smoothing at his ears.
“You okay?” the bard whispered, sounding as dazed as he felt.
“Mmm, very,” he answered, offering a weak bunt backwards and up into his lover’s chin. For a while they kept to appreciative quiet, skimming fingers over one another, tails brushing together between them as they enjoyed the steady rhythm of one another’s breathing, the sweetness of being alive.
“I believe I won,” he noted presently, and felt Evi’a’s smile on the back of his neck.
“You lost your patience and tilted the odds in your favor, so I think I can claim at least some of that victory,” the bard pointed out, pressing kisses to his crystalline shoulders.
“I suppose that’s true,” he allowed, finally turning over to bunt their foreheads together. “Gods, I love you,” he murmured, swooping in for a soft kiss before tucking his head under the Keeper’s chin.
“I love you too,” Evi'a murmured, pulling him close. He sighed into the secure warmth, sated and light and happier than he could ever have imagined he would be even just a year prior.
“You know,” he ventured, swallowing as his love nuzzled at his ears, “I…I mean to try to go back with you, to the Source. If…if you’ll have me.” He hadn’t meant to admit to this so early, not before he had the auracite process completely sorted, but found that he needed Evi’a to know that he wanted a future together, even if things went awry and his own ability to return failed. The man deserved to know he was treasured, at the very least.
“I would have you by my side wherever I wander,” the Keeper exclaimed with delight, pulling him closer. “And to share a home in lulls and times of peace.” His mouth fell open, and he couldn’t help the joyful laughter that bubbled from deep within, to be accepted so easily, to not be judged for his selfishness, to be loved and cherished and wanted. For a while, it was all they could do to hold one another, to kiss and touch and be.
Eventually, his love pulled back, offered him an affectionate bunt to the forehead before turning once more to the bedside dresser to fetch a towel. He arced into the damp warmth as the bard cleaned him, all the way from his chest to down where he was still so sensitive…it appeared he’d made quite the mess, and something about that discovery was immensely satisfying.
“You really enjoyed that, didn’t you? I’m glad,” Evi’a mused as he gently worked the towel at his love’s length. “And perhaps looking to enjoy again?” he added with raised eyebrows, and the Exarch blushed to realize he was probably right as his body eagerly responded to the intimate touch.
“Hmm, yes, but perhaps without all the waiting this time,” he admitted with a soft smile. “I just want to be with you, and I, er, don’t think I have it in me for another such challenge tonight.”
“Mm, I can do that,” the Keeper murmured, leaning down to settle his weight atop the caretaker in a way that he knew was comforting. “Will you ever tell me about the other things you wanted to do?” he asked, brushing thumbs over freckled cheeks as he leaned in for a kiss.
“I will,” he promised, looking into his love’s sparkling eyes, enjoying how they crinkled at the corners with contented happiness. “We do seem to have time, after all.”