A weight still rested on his chest. After a long silence, Gus knew what he had to say.
“You’re not an animal, Domino. That’s why you feel bad, why it’s not enough for you. Someone like you needs somebody to take care of him, to reassure him.” A pause. “If you want, we can go to bed and lie down. Together. I’ll hold you, and you can do the same with me. If you feel comfortable, if you feel the need, you can pleasure yourself. I don’t mind. We’ll keep our pants on. You can hold me. I’ll be right here. I won’t run away.”
Slowly, Domino finally turned his eyes toward him. He seemed taken aback by Gus’s offer. His chest rose faster and faster.
“My seasons are over,” Domino said.
“I know.” Don’t leave me.
“You would do that for me?”
I would do anything for you.
Gus remained quiet and moved his hand closer to Domino’s. Their fingers met and intertwined. Domino squeezed his hand, his gaze never leaving Gus’s face.
It was risky. It was the kind of situation (though not quite) Gus wanted to avoid. Once in Domino’s arms, he would be weak. And Domino, who without saying so, had just confessed to having had sex with several women. Would the ghost of their lovemaking intrude on their bed? This whole idea was probably bad, but—
Gus silenced his thoughts and smiled, a nervous but genuine smile.
Domino was still watching him. He could have refused. He hadn’t yet.
Gus stood up, inviting him to follow. “Are you coming?”
A few seconds passed. Domino’s fingers closed tighter on his own. The nichan stood up to follow him, and a relief beyond suspicion restored courage to Gus’s muscles.
Domino still held Gus’s hand between his long fingers when they stopped by the bed. He looked at the sheets, then at Gus. The blond boy retrieved his own hand and passed it over his back. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled on the laces closing his sleeveless tunic and took it off. The fabric slipped off at the base of his wings. He repressed a shiver. His tunic fell to the ground without a sound.
Domino looked down at Gus, at his slender torso, his contracted abdomen. Gus knew exactly what he looked like. He was a skinny, pale human surrounded by tall, power-filled nichans. He still looked like a boy where Domino, about the same age as him, had the build of a fine man. If Domino wanted a man, Gus wasn’t the best choice available around.
Flirting and wanting were two different things. One was a game. The other carried a much heavier weight.
He questioned himself, felt ridiculous for thinking that his friend could desire him as much as he craved his touch. Though still wearing his pants, Gus felt barer than ever, as if his raw heart was on display. Yet he held his head high, his gaze steady, and didn’t retreat as Domino contemplated him.
“What . . . What am I allowed to do? Hum . . . I mean, to touch?” Domino asked, licking his lips.
“Anything . . . I’ll tell you.”
“All right,” the nichan whispered in a trembling voice.
Less than an arm’s length separated them. Soon there would be nothing left.
On this thought, Gus lay down on the bed, soon joined by Domino. They settled down as they did every night: Gus on the left, Domino on the right. Lying on his side, Domino hesitated. Gus then moved closer to him, quickly assailed by the heat emanating from his friend’s powerful body. Domino did the same and wrapped one arm around Gus and then the other.
He kept his distance, didn’t dare.
“Do you want to stop?” Gus asked.
Domino shook his head and pulled the other boy to him. Their torsos touched, and he sighed. Immediately after, he hugged Gus tighter. Gus tentatively returned the embrace. He had to remember that he was doing this for Domino and not for himself. For a moment, Domino’s breath swept across the top of Gus’s skull, his hands wisely placed under his wings.
Domino’s first hip movement surprised them both, subtle but obvious. Gus spoke before his friend backed away. “You want to lie on top of me?”
Yes, Domino wanted to.
They rolled awkwardly on the bed, separating for a moment. When Domino lay down on him, Gus felt his breath leave him. He rested his hands on Domino’s shoulders and realized that the position of their body wasn’t quite right. The problem didn’t come from his wings, even though they were pressing unpleasantly against his back. It was something else.
The bed creaked at the movement of their tangled limbs. Gus spread his thighs. Domino’s legs moved into this offered space and the position suddenly became more comfortable, more natural. They exchanged glances, said nothing. The innuendo was eloquent enough.
Domino buried his face in Gus’s neck and his hips resumed their motions. They were light, timid. Then Gus felt Domino’s lips on his skin. They laid one on top of the other and it was impossible for Gus to hide the jolt that coursed in his veins and shook his whole being. It echoed into his hands, which closed over Domino’s shoulders.
Feeling the change, Domino raised his head, his cheeks rosy. He’d stopped all movement. “I’m sorry.”
Gus thought he’d die of shame, for if Domino put an end to this now, he’d be forever sorry to have suggested it. Their friendship becoming uncomfortable had always been one of the reasons to limit themselves to harmless flirtations. This wouldn’t be harmless.
“It must feel strange to you,” Domino said, his breath warming the space between their faces. “You don’t have to . . . Do you want me to stop?”
“No. Just tell me how I can help you. Tell me what I have to do to make you feel good.”
He meant, to make you stay.
“Hold me,” Domino said.
Gus did. His hands moved up Domino’s neck, one of them getting lost in the curls of his thick hair. He then pulled Domino down against him and ran his fingertips along his scalp. A soft moan escaped Domino’s lips, and he let himself go against Gus, pressing their foreheads together.
“Like this?” Gus asked, running out of oxygen.
“Yes. Just like that. That feels good.”
Gus continued his massage, slow and delicate. As his body warmed, he felt Domino harden against him. Good. That was what Gus wanted. If Domino felt good, then it suited him.
Don’t leave me.
As if suspended on the edge of a precipice, Gus let himself fall, no matter how painful the impact. “You can kiss me if you want.”
Domino’s eyes opened. He could probably hear the frantic beating of Gus’s heart.
He’d dared to offer it.
Looking disheveled and blushing, Domino seemed to be contemplating for the first time this concept that had been floating between them for years. “You want to?”
The nichan was watching Gus. But then and always, his gaze rested on the human’s thin lips.
Gus couldn’t hold on any longer. “Kiss me.”
A handful of seconds passed. When Domino leaned over, Gus held his breath. The contact of Domino’s lips lasted only a brief moment. It was a gentle kiss, careful of the reactions it would trigger. Gus trembled with pleasure, adrenaline erupting in his chest. Domino retreated a few inches, panting. Then, as their breaths mingled, he did it again. This time his lips lingered until Gus returned the kiss. It was a caress, as light as moth’s wings, and hesitant at the same time, but it set Gus’s mind ablaze.
With their eyes still open, the two young men exchanged another kiss. And then another. And another one, ever more urgent, longer, hotter. For a moment that seemed to stretch, they did just that, blushing, sweat beading on the surface of their skin. One kiss after the other, always more yet never enough.
Then Gus opened his mouth, full of an intention that couldn’t be mistaken. The next moment, Domino’s tongue found its way in and caressed Gus’s own.
One of them moaned; Gus couldn’t tell who. His arms tightened around Domino’s neck, driven by a primitive, possessive instinct. In response, the only one appropriate, Domino let himself go completely, no longer holding his weigh
t on his elbows, and captured Gus’s mouth without restraint or shyness.
Gus couldn’t believe that Domino was kissing him. That they were kissing. He’d wanted to for a long time. This feeling . . . Like walking on air, pulse dripping on itself everywhere. In his palms, his lips, his crotch. Gus hadn’t anticipated the effect it would have on him. He couldn’t control his hands. They cuddled the nape of Domino’s neck, grabbed his hair, kept their faces as close together as possible. And he opened his legs even more, giving Domino enough room to press himself harder against him.
Domino’s hands touched his sides, whispering along his ribs, holding his thin waist and hips as he rubbed himself against Gus. These same hands eventually found the hem of Gus’s pants and began to push it away to undress him.
“Domino,” Gus blew against his mouth.
It was another invitation, like the one to see their kiss deepen. He wanted more. But Domino seemed to take that as a warning, for he interrupted their kiss, his lips swollen, and lifted the garment he’d tried to remove.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, his gaze veiled, his eyes still on Gus’s mouth. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Okay,” said Gus, his heart struggling to escape his ribcage.
Didn’t Domino want it too? Maybe Gus was moving too fast. Maybe he understood his friend’s ardor the wrong way. Was that possible? Gus felt that he was losing his footing, but also that he was failing in his resolutions. He wasn’t certain of anything anymore, didn’t know if he should care. All he wanted was Domino.
“Can I kiss you again?” Domino asked.
“Yes.”
The kiss resumed and the brief embarrassment was pushed away. Domino’s mouth was so warm, so tender, his tongue so soft. It made Gus forget all his doubts. His own pleasure was rising, hard against Domino’s. They moved together now, only separated by the fabric of their respective pants. Then Domino moaned harder, took his lips off Gus’s and put them on his throat. The movements of his hips slowed down, pressing hard, but didn’t stop.
“I . . . I’m going to come if I keep going,” Domino warned him, his voice muffled by the flesh.
Gus took only a second to find an answer. “Keep going.”
Domino didn’t seem to want anything else.
With his face buried against Gus’s wet throat, Domino kissed him, licked the feverishly pulsating skin, sucked it off. There would be a mark. Gus didn’t care. He wanted there to be one, so they’d know what they’d done once it was over.
Domino’s moaning was only getting louder. It rose and rose and rose, and then Domino growled, arching his spine, pressing the most sensitive spot on his body right between Gus’s legs, where the two boys could have fit together if they’d had the audacity to try.
Out of breath, Domino went still. He had come.
Like dead weight, he collapsed on Gus, catching his breath; a minute passed, maybe more. Gus, whose desire hadn’t been satisfied, finally closed his eyes and concentrated on anything but the beautiful body pressing on him. He wasn’t to move. He had to control himself.
As if his body weighed a ton, Domino pushed on his arms with a grimace and moved out of the way to make room for Gus. Fresh air rushed through Gus’s sweat-soaked chest and belly. But he lay still, except to turn his head. By his side, Domino was slumped on the mattress, his face soaked, his lips red.
I did this. My mouth was there.
As he marveled at the sight and idea, Domino opened his eyes, exhausted, as if all the fatigue of the last few days—and especially of this night—was finally collapsing on his shoulders.
“You . . . you didn’t finish,” Domino mumbled.
“It’s fine,” Gus said, still motionless. “Sleep.”
Domino’s eyelids closed. A few seconds later, he was asleep.
Next to him, Gus took much longer to recover. His body cooled, his skin and clothes dried, but his mind was trapped in the moment. The way Domino had touched him, kissed him . . . The feel of his tongue in his mouth, the pressure of his sex so close and yet beyond reach.
Things could have gone further. Gus would have accepted it. If Domino had wanted to, Gus would have offered himself to him. But Domino hadn’t needed it. He’d had women. By the time he’d come into the hut, the madness of his seasons had already found rest. What they’d just done, however, was because Domino wanted it, and not to silence instincts inherent in his species. Right?
Gus could no longer concentrate on one thought at a time. He took a moment to calm down. When he failed, he sat up. He didn’t dare leave the bed for fear of waking up his friend.
Tomorrow, what would Domino tell him? Gus himself didn’t know what he’d say. He didn’t regret it, he’d wanted it; he still wanted it. That didn’t guarantee that his feelings were shared.
What if he gets sick because of me?
But Domino seemed fine, and he was strong. They’d just kissed. Nothing more.
But such kisses meant something to him, and he knew his friend well enough to . . .
Gus had to put his fears out of his mind at all costs. The worst that could happen was to have hope and have it taken away in the morning.
With a heart heavier than it had been before their embrace, Gus looked up at the ceiling and let the lamps burn.
His living wing was all numb, as were his lips.
Gus woke the next morning to a knock on the door. With his hair spilled all over his face, he opened his eyes and found the place next to him empty. Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered him. Today it did.
There was another knock.
Mouth pasty, stomach painfully hollow, Gus left the bed and opened the door. The daylight, though shy, assaulted the back of his eyes, and he winced. Matta was on the other side, a basket loaded with laundry under her arm. She looked at him from head to toe.
“Here you are,” she said in a tone that didn’t match her words.
“What is it?”
“Come and help me with the chores. Don’t stay by yourself.”
That was a first. By himself? Gus always did his chores alone or with Domino. Since when did Matta get involved?
“What?” he said, his voice hoarse.
Matta remained silent and studied his face. Her expression then changed, becoming deeper. “Domino is gone.”
Gus must have misunderstood. He repeated himself. “What?”
“Early this morning, he left the village with Ero, his brother, and Memek.”
“What?”
He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He opened the door wider, as if it countered the proper course of his thoughts.
“They went on a pilgrimage,” Matta said. “For Domino. Nichans do that sometimes, to reconnect with their roots. They live in the wild, far from their clan.”
The words finally made sense. Gus stood up. His heart raced. “How long will he be gone?”
“Weeks, months. I couldn’t say. It all depends on Domino.” The news hit Gus right in the face. He hung on to the door. “Maybe you should stop by the baths before breakfast. You’ve been . . . marked.”
Marked. Like a stain impregnated with the urine of a feral cat. Marked, by Domino. Imbued with his scent.
In the midst of this senseless situation, Gus responded thoughtlessly. “We haven’t—”
Made love. He kept it to himself, both the confession that something had happened and the fact that Domino had refused to take him.
He was gone.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matta said, lowering her voice. “Even I can feel it. I’ll follow you to the baths. My scent will probably cover yours. If someone smells it . . . you’ll get funny looks. You don’t want that.”
Domino was gone. Gus didn’t care about anything else. Let the rest of them watch. He’d hold his head up high, wouldn’t let himself be stepped on, as always.
“Get your stuff. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Matta’s voice seemed to come from afar. Gus moved by reflex, pushing the door, grabbing his clothes, his shoes.
His gaze then caught sight of an orange glint on the other side of the bed.
Domino had left without even saying goodbye. The Domino he knew, his best friend, would never have done that. And yet the sense of abandonment he felt then drained Gus of all his strength.
Gus walked around the bed and grabbed the necklace with the piece of sap hanging from the end of it, the one Domino had worn every single day for the past three years. This morning, as he’d left the bed, as he’d left the village, Domino had left the necklace behind as well.
He left me.
Fingers stiff, Gus put the necklace back down and left the hut.
X X
Domino had stopped looking back two days after their departure.
That morning, Beïka woke him up with a kick in the calf. Domino, just like the day before, remembered where he was. Almost a hundred miles west from Surhok. He also remembered how his uncle and brother had ambushed him as he came out of the baths. He hadn’t understood at the time, had taken their arrival as a setback.
Then Ero had made it clear. “We are leaving the village and the clan for your pilgrimage. Naturally, you’re coming with us.”
Domino had resisted at first. Beïka held him by the skin of his neck as he made his way through the dawn darkness and the fleeting mist rising from the ground. He was strong, brutal, but nothing insurmountable. Domino could defend himself, and since a nichan never transformed against one of his own, Beïka could do nothing to increase his superiority over his younger brother.
Then Ero’s order had rang, tipping the scales. “Stop resisting and come with us. It’s time to turn you into a nichan. That’s an order.”
Nothing in Domino could fight his words. Coursing through his veins, flexing his body to his uncle’s will, the command was absolute. Domino had walked in his brother’s footsteps, his screaming mind struggling to regain control. (After two days, this part of him was still fighting.) Every step had seemed so heavy to him, his body acting against his deepest wishes. He wanted to stay in Surhok; the blood oath made it impossible.
Disoriented, his nose had begun to bleed, as it had so many years earlier in the great hall of the sanctuary, as his uncle wiped on his tongue the blood collected from his nephew’s arm. As he arrived in the heart of the village, Beïka’s heavy hand still clinging to his neck like a tick on the back of a wild dog, Domino had turned his eyes to his peaceful hut. His body was trapped, but the order wasn’t meant to silence him. Domino had screamed. To ask Ero to release him, to remind him of the unfairness of the situation. And to wake everyone around, Gus included.
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