To Target the Heart

by Aldrea Alien

  This wasn’t like when Darshan had turned up unannounced. Hamish had been given no time to think, barely enough to act. Now all his thoughts crowded to be heard. “It’s been a while,” he replied, wincing at the faint quaver his nerves made of his voice.

  Darshan’s mouth twitched; a soft curve that wasn’t a smile, but held a kindness that strummed something deep within Hamish. “We shall take it slower this time.” He clasped Hamish’s hand and led him deeper into the room. “I promise.”

  “That’s nae me concern.” Although, he did appreciate the gesture. “I dinnae have a lot of pleasant memories of the last time I was in this room.”

  “If it bothers you to be doing this here, we could try to find another place?” His gaze didn’t seem to quite meet Hamish’s as he spoke, likely not relishing the thought of delaying.

  Hamish shook his head. “There is naewhere else.”

  “I see,” Darshan murmured, running his thumb over the back of Hamish’s fingers. “They will not catch us, you know.” The words came laced with such assurance.

  Hamish wished he could be as confident. Maybe I should leave. Return only once the thought of being discovered by the guards wasn’t all-encompassing. Although, that was looking to be unlikely without Darshan’s departure. “You say that now, but—” His voice stuttered as Darshan wet his lips. All Hamish could think of was kissing them again. Would they still be soft? Or would their combined need turn them rough?

  In one silken move, Darshan pressed close. His hand glided up Hamish’s chest, around his neck and into his hair. The gentle pressure of the man’s grasp had Hamish bending enough to drop a whispering kiss upon Darshan’s lips.

  No sooner than he had done so, did the man’s grip tighten. Darshan dragged him down further, deepening the kiss, each move desperate, raw and brimming with power. Hamish’s legs trembled.

  Just when he thought he might drop, Darshan stepped back.

  He stared at Hamish, wide-eyed, his face frozen in a mask of mortification. Then, all at once, he clapped a bare hand over his mouth and turned on his heel. “That was terribly uncouth of me.”

  “I didnae mind.”

  Darshan whirled back, grinning. “I can tell. Those trousers of yours might be voluminous in appearance, but they leave little to the imagination up close.”

  Dear Goddess. Hamish buried his face into his hands. His cheeks burned against his palms. Yes, he had noticed how hard he’d grown, but never had it been so casually mentioned. It didn’t help that he’d opted to go without his smalls to speed things along.

  He risked a peek between his fingers to find the spellster hadn’t moved.

  Seeming to notice Hamish’s scrutiny, Darshan pressed his hand to his chest. His fingers certainly looked a lot longer and thinner without the thick rings. “Forgive me, I will endeavour to show a little more decorum. But I warn you, that might be difficult what with yesterday still running through my head since I left your room.”

  “Is that so?” Knowing that Darshan couldn’t get that time out of his head any more than Hamish could forget did much to soothe his nerves.

  The spellster wrapped his fingers around Hamish’s belt, pulling them close once again. “I guess, if there is nowhere else we can go, the only recourse is to make some new, and extremely pleasant, memories for you to dwell on.”

  “That sounds preferable.” Hamish cupped the man’s jaw, tilting it at just the angle he desired. Their lips met, a little more restrained on Darshan’s part.

  How long they stood there, he couldn’t be sure. The kiss never grew in intensity, just lingered in that strange balance of tender and full of raw emotion.

  Darshan’s deft fingers tugged at Hamish’s clothing, first loosening his belt before moving on to the ties at the neck of his tunic. Hamish had been careful to wear only enough to get him through the halls without raising suspicion. Sadly, that meant wearing a great deal more than he would’ve preferred.

  “You know,” Darshan muttered whilst assisting Hamish in hauling off his undershirt. “As much fun as undressing you is, you might want to consider wearing less clothing next time.”

  “Oh aye?” Hamish levered off one boot with the other as he undid the ties to his trousers. He stepped out of them and pushed them aside with the flick of a foot. “And just how much less would you suggest?” He might be able to get away with no undershirt next time. Although, with the faint spring chill in the air, it would make the return trip to his quarters a bit on the cold side.

  Darshan hummed thoughtfully, the flash of a playful smile all but concealed as he hauled off his own attire. It seemed the man had opted for the one layer this time instead of the three he’d worn whilst in Hamish’s quarters. “If you could manage the journey here in your drawers…”

  Laughter burst from Hamish’s throat upon realising that the man meant for him to walk the halls in his smalls. “There’s nae way that’s happening.” By the smirk on the man’s face, he seemed well aware of that.

  “A pity.” Darshan shed his trousers and Hamish realised that the man had also thought to forsake the extra layer of clothing there. “The sight of you wandering the corridors in nothing else would be a privilege you would find me quite willing to pay for.”

  Hamish pressed close, wrapping his arms around the man’s bare shoulders. Darshan’s skin was hot, beyond what could’ve been attributed to the warmth in the room. Did magic turn ordinary men into furnaces?

  That was a question to ask later. He dropped his head, not to kiss again, but to nuzzle at the spellster’s neck.

  A soft moan, almost a squeak, escaped the man’s lips.

  Darshan clutched at Hamish, arching his elegant neck in a fashion that allowed greater access to that expanse of olive-brown skin. All sorts of obscene murmurs and hushed groans rumbled through Darshan’s throat.

  He smelt good. At first, Hamish had thought the scent came from the man’s clothes or the candles, but it was Darshan himself that emanated a freshness like the winter seas or grass after the rain, mixed with a sweet aroma he couldn’t quite place, likely something from the spellster’s homeland. Had the man bathed between their talk on the abandoned cliffward tower and now?

  A flush of guilt washed over Hamish. After the journey down the castle’s secret exit, he’d barely any time to do little more than scrub the essentials. Most of him likely still smelt of dusty tunnel and wet soil.

  “Hamish?” Darshan murmured.

  He halted his exploration of the man’s neck and shoulders. The way his name had left Darshan’s lips—gravelly with need, but also a little frantic—had his insides doing all sorts of strange flips he hadn’t realised them capable of.

  “I meant to ask,” Darshan continued. “Seeing that it has been years for you… How would you like this to go?”

  “What?” Hamish straightened. “I thought we’d already agreed on why I came here?” Although, if he didn’t slow down, his visit would be a repeat of yesterday. He stepped back from the man, putting some distance between them to try and cool off.

  “Yes, yes.” Darshan waved his hand. “But what position do you prefer? Riding or being ridden?”

  Frowning, Hamish settled on the bed. Position? That he’d understood and, truth be told, he had experience with only the one. The rest?

  He flopped back, stretching out across the bedding and staring up at the ceiling. “You ask a lot of questions.” Ones they probably should’ve gotten out of the way during their time on the tower fortifications rather than him prattling about various points of interest in their scenic view.

  He caught only a few hushed footsteps from the spellster crossing the room before Darshan’s weight shifted the mattress and the man’s concerned face came into sight. “I am rather averse towards hurting you.”

  Hamish wriggled, trying to get comfortable. The mattress was a little softer than what he was used to. A good surface to lean on whilst rutting, though. “Isnae it supposed to hurt?” He’d never known a time that hadn’t left him
unable to sit properly for a few days afterwards.

  Darshan sat back on his heels, his already furrowed brows trying their best to deepen the lines. “Exactly how much experience do you have with sex?”

  “None.”

  Those hazel eyes bulged, wide and round enough to fill the lenses of his glasses. “None?” Darshan echoed.

  “It’s nae that I dinnae ken about sex,” Hamish drawled, quietly dreading the turn this conversation had taken. Why were they even discussing this? “Because I do.” More than he really wanted to know when it came to intimacy between a man and a woman. “I just havenae done it.” As the man must’ve known.

  There was a faint twitch of Darshan’s upper lip, the minute narrowing of his eyes and the overall overt drawing of his brow. He looked for all the world like a man trying to decide if Hamish was really that ignorant.

  As if he has ever done it. What had the man said up on the tower earlier? That he’d no interest in women?

  When the silence had almost become too much for Hamish to take, Darshan spoke.

  “You…” he mumbled. “Never…?” He shook his head. “I must have misunderstood you. You really have not had sex? You certainly cannot tell from the way you kiss. But yesterday… In your quarters… The way you pleasured me. We—”

  “What does kissing have to do with lying with a woman?” Hamish snapped. Or even what he’d done to please the man for that matter? “We really dinnae have a lot of time, you ken? So, are we rutting or nae? Because if it’s nae happening, then I best be going.”

  Hamish went to get off the bed when the spellster’s hand pressed against his chest.

  Darshan grew still. Those hazel eyes seemed to bore into Hamish as the spellster hovered over him. “That man in the pub said something similar and you said it earlier, but I am afraid the word was not in my Tirglasian language studies.”

  “Aye.” He had forgotten that, even though Darshan had acted under the principle of what Billy said was derogatory, the Udynean hadn’t understood all the words. “It wouldnae have been,” Hamish mumbled, acutely aware there would likely be a number of words Darshan’s tutors wouldn’t have mentioned. He scrubbed at his face, letting his hand slide over his beard and down his neck. “Look, all I need to ken is, if we’re doing this, what do you want me bent over?”

  Darshan sat back, his brows raised to their highest. “Nothing. Your current position is more than adequate.”

  Hamish scoffed. “You cannae rut like this.” Not face to face. That was a position for wedded couples; husband and wife specifically.

  The spellster’s handsome features contorted, those immaculate brows lowering in confusion. His lips parted to silently mimic the word. Then slowly, like clouds parting, clarity came to light in his eyes. “Am I right in thinking that you are referring to sex? But rough sex, specifically? The kind where one slams himself into the other until he is done?”

  “Aye?” What other kind of act between two men could there possibly be?

  Something flitted across Darshan’s face, too quick to be certain of, but it had the soft air of pity about it. “And that is the extent of your experience?”

  “It is, aye.”

  Darshan’s eyes narrowed as he scrubbed at his chin. “I am wondering…” He crept closer until he hovered over Hamish. “…how much of a mood are you for indulging me? Just for a moment.”

  “That would depend on what you want.”

  “A mere question, I assure you.” The man cleared his throat. “These other men you have been with?”

  Hamish swallowed. The last thing he wanted to talk about was them.

  “Was it rather a case of arse up, head down and not speak a word?” Darshan cocked his head even though Hamish hadn’t answered. “Are you certain they actually like men that way? Or have they all just been looking for a convenient place to stick it?”

  Hamish shrugged, a queasiness bubbling in his gut. He had known a few that had felt the same, but generally? “I dinnae ken much beyond most of them being sailors who were likely to leave port within the day.” If not the hour.

  Again, something flashed across Darshan’s face. There for no longer than the first time, but definitely pity.

  He peered at the man. If Darshan pitied him, did that mean… “Is it nae the same for you?”

  Darshan’s expression melted into one of sorrow. “Not at all,” he whispered. “There is so much more.” He crept up the bed, one knee slipping between Hamish’s thighs to gently part them. “Allow me to show you what sex between two men can be like.”

  Hamish rolled his eyes. “Men cannae have sex with each other,” he mumbled. Maybe it was the language barrier, or twisty Udynean thinking, but the man couldn’t be aware of what he was implying.

  Amusement snorted out Darshan’s nose. He smirked, the act skewing his moustache. “What utter nonsense they teach you Northerners.” He laid atop Hamish, stretching out so that his whole body touched. “Would you like to discover if that is entirely true? Because I do not believe I have heard any disapproval.”

  Hamish wet his lips. Dare he agree and find out just what the man was jabbering about? He desperately wanted to agree, but past disappointment cautioned him against hoping too much. How many times had men declared they would show him a good time only to be more concerned about their own pleasure?

  “My word,” Darshan snickered, propping himself up on his elbows. “You need not say a thing. I can practically see the dice rolling around in your head.” He grinned. “Do they land in my favour?”

  “Do whatever you wish,” Hamish finally managed. He had come here for this very reason. What point was there in backing out now?

  The spellster shook his head, the brown curls of his hair bouncing with the exaggerated movement. “Oh no, no, no. That simply will not do, my hirsute friend. Since it has been years for you, I would rather make it about your wants.” He sat back, the grin turning cheeky as he winked. “Although, if you insist on keeping mum about it, I might just decide to flip you over and have my way.”

  Hamish’s heart thumped a few heavy beats at the very idea. He shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant, aware his length twitching against the man’s thigh had likely given him away. “I wouldnae mind.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been manhandled before.

  “I see,” Darshan murmured. “Well there is an ocean of difference between not minding an act and explicitly desiring it.” His hand ran idly up and down Hamish’s forearm, the action oddly intimate. “You never answered my original question, you know. I can rather deduce how the past has gone for you, but I am far more interested in your desires now. Do you want to ride or be ridden? I am open to both, if that helps.”

  He slowly rocked his head from side to side. Whilst he wasn’t entirely sure what Darshan meant, he did know what he wanted. “You in me.”

  “Riding it is, then.” It might’ve been a trick of the candlelight, but Hamish could’ve sworn he’d seen a flicker of disappointment in his response cross the man’s face. Before he could muster the courage to ask, Darshan hopped off the bed and sauntered to his travel chest.

  Hamish rolled onto his side to find Darshan’s back facing him. The man’s olive-brown skin appeared unmarked by ink or blemishes, save for a single star-shaped scar halfway up his torso. He hadn’t noticed if there was a matching mark on Darshan’s chest, having been far too distracted with other thoughts both now and earlier, but the scarring looked reminiscent of an arrow wound. Couldn’t spellsters fix any fault?

  Darshan bent to rummage in the travel chest’s depths, seemingly ignorant of how the act gifted Hamish a full view of that perfect backside. Whatever he searched for took far too short a time, but he returned to Hamish’s side swiftly enough with a brown bottle.

  “And that is?” Hamish jerked a chin at the bottle. Some sort of liquid sloshed inside, just visible through the cloudy glass.

  “This?” Darshan stared at the item as if surprised to find it in his possession. “Just oil.” He uncorked the bo
ttle and poured a little of the almost transparent liquid onto his fingers. “It was perhaps a little presumptuous of me to bring so much, I wasn’t exactly anticipating meeting anyone like-minded during my stay.” A faint smile creased his eyes. “But here we are.”

  “I’m still nae sure why you need it.” Was it a Udynean thing? He knew they had dozens of olive groves and typically used the oil all the time food-wise, but he’d never considered it might have other applications.

  Darshan scoffed as he set the re-corked bottle on the floor. “If you want me in you, then you shall need preparation, especially since you have not done it in so long. Surely, you do not expect me to enter you dry… do you?” He seemed to almost cringe at the question, staring down at his oiled fingers. Was he dreading the answer?

  Hamish frowned. None of his previous rutting partners had ever prepared him. Often, there wasn’t the time for more than trousers down, get off and leave. And those last two acts were generally the other way around for him.

  His silence must’ve tweaked something in the man’s thoughts, for when Darshan met his gaze again, those hazel eyes were clouded with concern. “You have actually done it this way before? I am willing to ride you.” His hand, slightly slick with tepid oil, caressed Hamish’s length. “If that is what you would prefer?”

  Hamish flopped his head back onto the bed. There hadn’t ever been any other way. It would always be him bent over a crate or barrel in the shadows of some pub storeroom, trying not to cry out as some random, and usually drunk, man took him whilst he scraped together what small amounts of pleasure he could from the act. “This way is fine.” He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he had full control of the act.

  “Well, seeing that we, apparently, do it a little differently in Udynea.” Darshan offered up a small, lopsided smile as his hand snaked from Hamish’s length to slide between his buttocks. “I am afraid you shall have to indulge me here.”

  “Aye?” he breathed. Already, he felt the man’s oil-slick finger gently circling his point of entry. Oddly pleasurable. Taking a deep breath, he sought to relax, despite the faint tremor of hesitancy in his gut. “Then indulge away.”