He drew back from Etan, just a step but enough that Etan’s hands fell from Tristan’s shoulders. “What are you saying? Are you calling me a—”
“No.” Etan’s voice was so intense Tristan had to believe him. “Never. I’m not saying anything about you at all. I’m telling you I’m not built that way. Casual encounters aren’t something I can do.”
“You don’t have to,” Tristan began.
“Nor is it something I want to think about the person I’m with doing. I won’t ask you if you’ve been with a friend of yours in the time since we were together. I have no right to do that, but I can’t just be another of the men you bump into from time to time or go looking for when you need to relax.”
“I don’t understand.” What was Etan telling him? What did Etan want?
Etan’s smile was almost sad, something it should never be and especially not on his birthday. “I know. All you need to know is that I won’t be one of many casual lovers. I can’t.”
“Even though we enjoyed ourselves so much?”
“Even though.” Etan was still smiling his sad smile, and his voice was gentle. He was so handsome in the moonlight. Tristan wanted to step back into him, to kiss him, to press against him and just hold him for a while, until the sadness went away.
Etan moved, a step to the side to slip by Tristan and probably back to his party, but Tristan reached out and grabbed Etan’s arm. He didn’t even realize what he’d done until Etan turned to look at him, a quizzical look in his eyes.
“So,” Tristan said slowly, “is it just that you wouldn’t want to be with me if I was doing the same with other people?”
Etan subsided back against the wall; he didn’t pull his arm from Tristan’s grasp. “It isn’t really being with someone if you’re just having a night every so often with whoever you feel like.”
Tristan shook his head, annoyed he was expressing himself so poorly. “That’s what I meant. Is it only that you wouldn’t be with me again if I was also with other people? If it was just us, would you feel differently?”
Etan froze under his hand. “What do you mean?”
“If I wasn’t with anyone else for the time we’re together, would that be something you would consider? If it was just us.”
“I don’t think I understand. Why would you want to…?”
He wasn’t certain actually. It wasn’t that he couldn’t be with one person and be satisfied—he had with Amory, though that had been a far more innocent affair than any he might start now, and he could again. He just hadn’t tried since Amory. “We’re friends, close friends, or we were, and we’re attracted to each other. We’ve already proven it could be good between us.”
“Yes,” Etan said slowly, confusion still written all over his face.
“So what if we enjoy ourselves together for a while. Just us, until we decide otherwise.”
“I still don’t understand why you would want to. You’re enjoying yourself perfectly well as you are.”
Tristan shrugged. He wished he had a good answer for Etan. Wished he had one for himself. He’d been enjoying himself in this portion of his life—he found company in that way when he needed it and went to friends like Amory when he wanted a different kind of companionship. But he missed Etan, missed his friendship, missed their conversations. “And I’ll enjoy myself with you. You’ll enjoy yourself with me too.”
“And that’s enough? To make a change like this one?”
“We’re not marrying, Etan.” He thought Etan flinched, but he probably imagined it with the shadows. “We’re just agreeing to find our pleasure with each other. When we no longer want to do that anymore, we’ll stop, go back to the way things were.”
He felt a pang at the thought. He hoped that day didn’t come too soon. Exploring some more pleasurable activities with Etan was something he rather wanted the chance to do. The few they’d engaged in had been very pleasurable. But Etan just stared at him, his golden brown eyes glinting in what little moonlight reached them.
When the silence stretched too long, Tristan began to think Etan would refuse. And really he had no reason to say yes. Tristan didn’t understand why he himself was so adamant about convincing Etan to agree. He should just let it go, walk away. There were others he could find his pleasure with when he felt like it. He could find someone else tonight if he really wanted to—probably even at the party.
“I’ve missed spending time with you.”
He didn’t know why he let himself say it, didn’t even know if Etan would care, but Etan’s attention sharpened, or Tristan thought it did—he couldn’t be sure without seeing Etan clearly, but there was a new tension in Etan’s body that he could feel.
“You have?” Etan asked finally.
“Yes.” He didn’t ask if Etan missed him. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. Still, he was disappointed when Etan didn’t echo his sentiments. He forced the disappointment aside. “We’re attracted to each other—we practically combusted the last time we were together. I, for one, would like to see if we can make it happen again. What about you?”
Etan stared at him again, letting the silence stretch for another long moment. What was Etan weighing so seriously? He couldn’t understand what he would have to think so much about—Etan either wanted to have an affair with Tristan or he didn’t.
Etan shifted in the shadows and lifted a hand to the back of Tristan’s neck. Tristan opened his mouth but was only able to suck in a startled breath as Etan jerked him forward into a kiss. A fiery kiss, as their others had been. The pressure of the hand on the back of Tristan’s neck anchored him to Etan. As if Tristan would ever try to escape the kiss—he’d been arguing for this. He lifted his hands and gripped Etan’s waist. Then he let Etan have his way, let him kiss Tristan however he wanted. And Tristan reveled in it.
But the kiss wasn’t really the same as their first—that one had been just a little rough and not at all the way he’d thought Etan would kiss. Not that he’d thought about it until after it happened. Then he couldn’t help but be struck by the contrast between Etan and his forceful kiss. More than that, it was so different from every other kiss Tristan had given or received. Others had been passionate yes, but far… lighter, somehow. He would have thought a kiss from Etan would be gentler, softer, or at least more lighthearted. It wasn’t, and this one wasn’t either, despite its differences from the first. He couldn’t exactly name what was different, but he couldn’t put names to much of anything the longer Etan kissed him.
The kiss slowed, softened, seduced instead of overpowered, and Etan’s hand gentled, urging him closer instead of anchoring and pulling, his other arm sliding around Tristan’s waist. Coaxing Tristan to let go, to let himself drown in Etan’s kiss. He squeezed Etan’s waist and did his best to keep upright under the dizzying onslaught. Tristan moaned, letting himself melt just that bit more against Etan. Letting all of his thoughts melt away as well.
Etan ended the kiss gradually but still too soon for Tristan. He blinked several times as he strained to see Etan in the shadows. But Etan’s face was as frustratingly obscured as it had been moments earlier. “Etan?”
“I—yes, all right.”
“All right?”
Etan nodded. “All right. Let’s see what happens.”
Chapter 8
SOMETHING WASN’T quite right in Etan’s voice. Tristan wanted to ask if Etan was sure, but other than that vague feeling, he had no reason to doubt Etan’s agreement. And really, they weren’t marrying or making a permanent arrangement. They might go to bed once and decide they were done. He rejected the idea immediately. They couldn’t be done so soon. “All right.”
Etan huffed out a laugh. “Such enthusiasm. A moment ago you were ready to strip our clothes off right here.”
Heat flashed through him at Etan’s words. “And I still am.”
Etan stopped Tristan before he could move for another kiss. “Not here.”
“Spoilsport.” Tristan grinned when Etan laughed, just the reaction he’d wan
ted. After Etan’s laughter trailed off, Tristan asked, voice quiet, “Where, then?”
“My suite.”
Tristan stepped back from Etan, letting him step away from the wall, and turned for the doors back inside. Etan caught his arm.
“Not that way, not unless you want to stay at the party, or have everyone talk when we leave together.” Etan turned away from the doors. “Follow me.”
He led Tristan along the now-deserted terrace, following it away from the party and around two corners to where the terrace ended. Just past it was a rounded room with light streaming through its windows. Every other window they’d passed had been dark, but Etan ignored the lighted room and pulled open a single door near the end of the terrace. He gestured for Tristan to precede him and then ducked inside, pulling the door shut behind them.
“This way.” Etan set off at a brisk walk through empty, dimly lit corridors. Tristan glanced around as he followed. He didn’t recognize this part of the palace, but even after years of visits to Amory and Etan and social events, he probably hadn’t seen every corner of the building. Despite the one room they’d seen lit up from outside, they encountered no one in the corridors. Etan stopped in front of a large portrait of a man with a horse and reached behind the frame. Tristan stepped forward, wondering what Etan was doing. Before he could move to try to see, something clicked and the painting swung out away from the wall, revealing a doorway behind it.
“More secret passages?” he said through his surprise.
“Something like that. Come on. This will be quicker.” Etan led the way into the passage and stepped aside until Tristan followed. Etan closed the door behind them as light globes flashed on. The soft glow illuminated the area around them, and more illuminated as they turned right and continued into the passage.
Tristan walked beside Etan, trusting he knew where they were going, and studied the passage as they went. The walls were smooth stone, old—as old as the palace maybe—but clean. No spiderwebs or dust that he could see. Who kept the hidden corridors clean if no one knew about them? Magic? He almost asked Etan but judged it not to be a pressing concern, especially after Etan took his hand and pulled him in for a quick kiss.
Etan didn’t let the kiss distract them, but he didn’t let go of Tristan’s hand either. He gave it a tug and got Tristan moving again. They traversed the corridors and climbed a short winding flight of stairs, all in silence. After another few moments, Etan stopped in front of a section of wall set with a small intricate mosaic. His fingers danced over the tiles in what must have been a deliberate sequence because the section of wall slid out soundlessly.
They stepped out of the passage into a dark alcove, a curtain pulled back just enough to let some light from the corridor beyond into the small space, enough for Tristan to see where they were. The passage door closed behind them with a quiet snick of sound. Tristan glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t tell where the door was now that it was closed.
Etan got Tristan moving again with another tug on his hand before he let it go. Tristan felt almost bereft for an instant at the loss of the clasp of Etan’s fingers around his own. He pushed the feeling aside.
Out of the shadowy alcove, Tristan got his bearings. They were in the residential wing of the palace not far from Etan’s suite. How had they gotten there? The passages all looked the same, as far as he’d seen, and it had been impossible for him to follow the twists and turns they took. He wondered if there was a map of the corridors. Certainly at some point there would have had to be plans for them to be built. But if they were as old as the palace—and he couldn’t see how they could be newer, the way they seemed to twine through the building—it was entirely likely the plans had been lost to time.
He should ask Etan sometime. It was the kind of information he would probably know or be able to find. He watched as Etan unlocked the door to his suite, watched the play of muscle under his clothes. Another time, he’d ask another time.
Inside the suite, the glass chandelier illuminated a room Tristan had been in many times, but not recently. Nothing had changed. His first impression of the room was always of books. Shelves of books, stacks of books, an open book on a couch cushion, another on the small table by the windows. They’d played cards on that table any number of times, and Etan had invariably had to move at least one book to make space. Tristan smiled at the memory.
For all that, the sitting room didn’t give the impression of being unorganized or messy, and the one time Tristan had said something, Etan had amply proved he could find anything, or any book, he wanted. Tristan found it impressive in a sort of adorable way, and at some point, the room with its books and its overstuffed cushions and its plush fabrics in soothing earth tones had become a place where Tristan was comfortable.
And it had been so long since he’d been there, since he’d sunk into the cushions of the couch and shared a drink and conversation with Etan.
“Drink?” Etan asked, already making his way to a liquor cabinet as if he was reading Tristan’s thoughts. Or perhaps he was just falling into old, familiar patterns.
Tristan opened his mouth to say yes, but they weren’t there for those old patterns. “After?”
Etan froze. Perhaps he’d nearly forgotten why they were there too. After a moment, Etan turned back to Tristan and nodded. “Yes. After.”
They stood looking at each other for another long moment. Tristan wanted to squirm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this awkward with a man, if he had ever felt this awkward with a man. Perhaps it was because of the long, drawn-out debate—near argument—they’d had to get to this point.
Finally Etan moved, stepping over and kissing him. Another seducing kiss. Tristan didn’t need to be seduced, but he liked it anyway, liked the feel of Etan’s lips against his coaxing him to open up, to give in. He wanted to. When Etan ended the kiss, Tristan went along reluctantly, but he only pressed himself closer to Etan, nuzzling into Etan’s neck. Etan’s arms tightened around him as Tristan left a trail of kisses, licks, and nips along the side of Etan’s neck.
Etan groaned. “Bedchamber.”
Tristan shivered at the rasp in Etan’s voice. “Yes.”
Etan took Tristan’s hand as they made the short walk across the sitting room. The bedchamber was dark, the only illumination from the moonlight streaming in the windows and the light coming from the sitting room behind them.
“I’ll light some candles,” Etan said.
“Wait. I can do it.” He could just see a branch of candles on the bedside table and another on the fireplace mantle. With a thought he lit them both. The flames flared high, but settled quickly. They shouldn’t have flared in the first place, but he was somewhat distracted by Etan’s hand in his, Etan’s presence at his side, by the thought of what they would do soon. Any of that was enough to make his control over his Talent slip just a little.
Etan wrapped his arms around Tristan’s waist from behind, pressing his chest to Tristan’s back. His breath was hot on Tristan’s neck. “I almost forgot you could do that.”
Tristan shivered again and leaned back into Etan, pushing himself into the planes of Etan’s body. “It comes in handy. The fire too?”
He lit the fire that had been laid in the hearth without waiting for Etan’s response. He concentrated harder this time, keeping the fire from sparking too much. He hadn’t let something ignite unintentionally since he was first learning his Talent, and he wasn’t going to do so now. Burning down the suite would be embarrassing, not to mention a damper on what was about to happen.
Once the small fire was burning merrily, Tristan turned in Etan’s arms. The firelight reflected in the golden brown of Etan’s eyes, in the smoldering desire there. But Tristan hesitated. Something still wasn’t right in Etan’s eyes. Before he could say anything, Etan bridged the small gap between them and kissed Tristan. Whatever he thought he saw in Etan’s eyes went straight out of his head as he pushed into the kiss, taking control of it, deepening it, and igniting
their passion once more.
Tristan fumbled for the fastenings of Etan’s clothes. Despite how handsome the man looked in them, it was time for them to come off, for him to see Etan without them. He stripped Etan as quickly as he could considering he didn’t want to stop kissing Etan while he did it. He had a fleeting thought that it might be nice to take his time, to see each inch of Etan’s skin revealed as he peeled the clothes away slowly, but the impulse didn’t last when faced with the reality of Etan in front of him. Etan who was stripping Tristan of his clothes just as quickly.
They were naked when they fell on the bed together and rolled over the mattress, the soft velvet of the coverlet smooth against Tristan’s back but still not as sensual as the silky warmth of Etan’s bare skin against his. Etan’s warmth surrounded him, and his scent with its vague hint of citrus. They kissed, messy, passionate kisses broken only for breath, as they tumbled over the bed, limbs twining and tangling. Tristan touched and grasped as much of Etan as he could reach as they tussled, moaning to feel Etan’s hands doing the same to him.
Abruptly, he found himself beneath Etan in the middle of the bed, Etan’s firm body pressing against him, pushing him down into the mattress, his wrists in Etan’s strong grip and held to the pillow on either side of his head. A little thrill coursed through his insides. Etan stared down at him, chest heaving as he moved against Tristan.
“Like this,” Etan said.
“Yes,” Tristan gasped.
Etan barely waited for Tristan’s agreement before swooping down for another kiss. Tristan moaned into the kiss, arching up into Etan’s hardness as he continued to rub against Tristan. After a moment, he moved his arms, tugging against Etan’s hold. The firm grip had been an exciting sign of Etan’s strength, strength not obvious at first glance, but Tristan wanted to touch, to hold, and he couldn’t do that with his hands held down. Etan finally released him, and he wrapped his arms around Etan, grasping at his back, digging fingertips into sleek muscle as pleasure built within him.
The Scholar's Heart (Chronicles of Tournai Book 3) Page 13