Tempest

by Cari Z

  “I didn’t need that reminder,” he scolded Colm as the city gate slowly came into focus.

  Honestly, Colm wished he hadn’t had to remember it himself. The night felt interminable, with the Cove completely packed with both diners and those who had taken rooms, and all of them seemed to need something extraordinary. He was sent out to buy fresh soap, oil for lanterns and a dozen new blankets for the rooms, and by the time the crowd had diminished, Nichol was nowhere to be seen, and Colm felt tired to his bones. His mind a bit of a mess, he left Megg with a kiss good night and climbed slowly up to their room, wondering if perhaps Nichol were already asleep on their cot.

  Nichol was there, but he wasn’t asleep. The room had been transformed, the cot pushed on its side against the far wall and all the blankets, including a number that should have been in the inn itself, were spread out on the floor, a soft, inviting nest. There were two candles instead of one, both lit, and the air smelled faintly sweet. Nichol was on his knees smoothing out a pillow with one hand, and he looked over at Colm with an expression caught between excitement and embarrassment. “I thought the cot would be too small for…and it’s cold, so I had to use extra blankets for the floor.”

  “You’re the reason she sent me to buy new ones?” Colm asked, toeing his boots off and setting them by the door.

  “I might be,” Nichol allowed with a faint smile. “But it will be worth it to be on something soft and warm, right?”

  “It will be worth it simply because I’m with you,” Colm told him.

  He was surprised by how quickly Nichol leapt to his feet, how tight the grip he had on Colm was as he kissed him desperately.

  “You don’t know…when you say those things…how can you say such things?” Nichol demanded, dominating Colm’s mouth with his own. The fire that had been banked all evening flared to a sudden brilliance in Colm’s chest, and he pulled Nichol even closer and ground against him, eager for more.

  “Clothes,” Nichol muttered. “Get them off. Fast.” They both stripped, and before he knew it, Colm was on his back on the blankets, Nichol leaning over him and kissing him like the only breath he could use was one that passed from Colm’s lips to his.

  Colm felt incredibly aware of their nudity, perhaps because they were in a place where they could actually spread themselves out instead of tucking in tight, perhaps because of what they were trying to do. The light from the candles softened the curves of Nichol’s body, turning every movement into a harmony of golden skin and shadows. If it could make Nichol look so glorious, Colm could only hope it did something close to that for him.

  “Beautiful,” Nichol murmured against his lips. “Perfect. Gods, I want you so much.”

  “You can have me,” Colm replied between kisses. “I want that. I want you.” The memory of them coming so close had fueled his fantasies for the past few days, and Colm was ready to go further. “Did you find…”

  “Yes,” Nichol said, reaching above Colm’s head and dipping his fingers in a shallow bowl. “It’s almond oil. It should work to ease the way.” As delicious as what they’d done last time had been, Colm was still grateful they hadn’t continued, because even that little bit of penetration had left him feeling raw. “Shall I touch you, then?”

  “Yes,” Colm said, and then he couldn’t speak at all, because Nichol’s slick, sweet-smelling hand stroked a line across his perineum, where the skin was tender and soft and so close to where Colm wanted Nichol to be. Oil slid from Nichol’s fingertips down the crevice of Colm’s thighs until it caught on the tight, delicate folds of his entrance. The tip of Nichol’s middle finger brushed him lightly, and Colm knew that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to come far too soon. He gripped his cock tightly around the base and squeezed.

  “No,” Nichol said, his voice a throaty murmur in Colm’s ear, “don’t do that. Let me take my time with you. You’ll get there again.” He lowered his mouth to the tip of Colm’s cock and sucked it inside, all the while rubbing over and over Colm’s hole, pressing and retracting with the oil easing his slow incursion.

  It was a fiery paradise, it was a terrible bliss. So much sensation all at once, new and strange and welcome and familiar all blending together, and it left Colm feeling like his own skin was too tight, like he needed to burst free of it somehow. He let go of his cock and let Nichol work him over, gave himself over to his lover’s desires and in no time, hardly anything at all, he planted his feet on the floor and arched into Nichol’s mouth, coming so hard he forgot to breathe.

  When Colm regained his senses, he realized two things: one, Nichol had somehow worked two fingers inside of him while he was busy orgasming, and two, that whatever they were pressing against felt really, really good. Colm was almost too sensitive but not quite, just enough to keep him riding the edge of his pleasure instead of falling over into either pain or giving in to languor.

  “You like this?” Nichol asked quietly, and Colm hummed his assent. “What does it feel like?”

  “Strange,” Colm said honestly. “Intimate. Good, it feels good.”

  “Not painful?”

  “Not at all,” Colm assured him. It really wasn’t, not even when Nichol slid a third finger in next to the other two. It stretched him, and the stretch carried a bit of a burn, but even that Colm was learning to enjoy. “It’s good,” Colm repeated, shutting his eyes and bearing down a bit on the fingers within him, tightening around them and smiling when he made Nichol gasp. “It will be even better when it’s you.”

  “Do you think this is enough?” The desperation in Nichol’s voice was plain, and Colm knew he had to be as hard as stone.

  “I think so. Try.”

  Nichol lifted his head and slowly pulled his fingers free. Colm felt odd without them inside. One moment, he’d verged on too full, but now he just felt hollow. Nichol scooped up more oil and rubbed it over his cock, bright red and as hard as Colm had ever seen it. Colm couldn’t resist reaching out and touching it, coiling his fingers around it and squeezing just to see what would happen.

  What happened was Nichol grabbing his wrist and stilling his hand as he let out a keen. “It’s too much,” he whispered harshly. “I want to be inside you before…”

  “Fine.” Colm kissed his lover, and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders and back. “That’s fine. Here, let me turn.” Face-to-face would be nice, but Colm wasn’t sure he had the flexibility for that, and they both wanted the first time to go well. He got onto his hands and knees and waited, breathless, for a touch.

  Nichol smoothed his hands over Colm’s hips, down the knobby length of his spine and back. One finger dipped inside, testing again, and Colm grimaced and pushed back hard, because one finger was nowhere near enough. Nichol pressed a fast kiss to the small of his back, then moved forward, until their legs were tight against each other’s and Nichol’s cock pressed insistently at Colm’s entrance. The oil made the first inch easy, until Colm’s body caught on to the strangeness, the newness of what was happening to it, and tightened.

  “’S fine,” Nichol murmured, bringing his hand around to lightly stroke Colm’s cock, still half-soft and not yet recovered. “Breathe, Colm.” The touch helped somewhat, a welcome distraction from the burn, and the reminder helped more. Colm sucked in one deep breath, then another, and his muscles unconsciously relaxed. Nichol slid forward, slow but persistent, until finally they were completely flush, their bodies locked together.

  “Oh gods,” Nichol sighed. “You’re…it’s…Colm, tell me you’re all right. Tell me I can move again.”

  “Go,” Colm said, because his body was adapting with surprising speed, and he felt…not perfectly ready, but certainly impatient. “Go, go!” And Nichol went.

  It was still slow, but the movement made things feel better. Warmer. Colm shut his eyes and focused on that feeling of warmth, of fullness and the sheer fact that Nichol was in him, moving with him and around him
. He spread his knees a bit, trying to find—

  “Oh!” There it was, that spot, that place that had felt so good before. It was even better now, not as sensitive as it had been right after his orgasm. Colm canted his hips back and lowered his head, and Nichol’s chuckle was positively filthy.

  “Have we found it, then?” he asked breathlessly, moving a bit faster.

  “Yesss.” They certainly had, and it felt like lightning in his blood, coursing through the channels of his body and readying for a strike.

  “Perfect. I want…gods, I want you to…do you think you can come? Like this?” Nichol’s fingers dug into the sides of Colm’s hips as he started to thrust in earnest.

  “Don’t know,” Colm replied, equally breathless. He swayed with Nichol’s movements for a moment, then began to push back on his own. The harder and faster they moved, the more favorably his body seemed to respond. The gentleness of the past few months was stripped away, and all that was left was the desperate urge for more, faster, harder. “Nichol…”

  “I’m…this…” The more inarticulate Nichol became, the closer he was to finishing. Colm let him chase his own pleasure as he reached one hand down and fisted his own cock, working his tight hand across the head with a flurry of motion. Their movement became faster, faster, so much so that Colm thought he might lose his balance and collapse, but then Nichol groaned gutturally, pressed as far inside Colm as he could get and came. Colm felt it, the delicious warm wetness of it inside, and his cock swelled in his hand, so close.

  Nichol, once he caught his breath, didn’t stop moving, thank the gods. He stayed inside, moving slower now, incrementally softening but still hard enough to press that spot, and that, plus the feel of his spend leaking out of Colm’s hole around Nichol’s cock, was enough to make Colm come. He lowered his head and muffled the wild noise that tore from his throat against a pillow as he pulsed over his fist, a lesser but gut-wrenching flow that left him as weak as a minnow afterwards.

  Nichol finally pulled back, gentle at last, and Colm fell facedown onto the blankets, completely oblivious to the spots of damp beneath him. Nichol joined him after a moment, plastering himself to Colm’s side and peppering what he could reach of his face with kisses.

  Gradually, their breathing rates calmed down enough that they could speak again. “Are you all right?” Nichol asked.

  “Mmm, you could say that,” Colm mused, feeling utterly satisfied. “It wouldn’t do the state I’m in justice, though.”

  “I’m that good, am I?” Nichol said, and they both laughed a little.

  “I think it’s more that I am,” Colm jested, and was taken aback when Nichol didn’t keep laughing, just smiled and said, “I agree.”

  Was it as good as you imagined it would be, Colm wanted to ask. Was it better than with Jaime? But he couldn’t quite bring himself to be that overtly jealous of Nichol. “Do you really?”

  “Yes,” Nichol replied with gratifying quickness. “I think you’re amazing.” He leaned in and kissed the top of Colm’s head, then added, “And sticky, probably, and perhaps a little uncomfortable. So I should do something about that.” And he did, cleaning both of them up with water and a rag set well aside from the action.

  Eventually, the blankets and the two of them were as clean as they were going to get, the candles were blown out, and they huddled together in the middle of the pile, sharing the pillow like always even though there was plenty of room to spread out. Nichol fell asleep first, snoring gently, and Colm looked down at him and thought to himself, if I could keep this life, I would. Or even just be with him, however the rest turns out. That would be enough for me.

  Perhaps, even, it might be enough for Nichol.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Winter dragged its claws through Caithmor relentlessly, bringing sleet, snow and even an ice storm. The days passed with agonizing slowness, not only due to the tiresome repetition of the routine at the Cove but also for intensely personal reasons. No more letters from Colm’s sister came, and with every day that passed, Colm wondered more and more if she was all right.

  He worried she would run too early and get caught and brought back, or run and get lost in the mountains and fall from a trail, or be buried beneath a drift. He worried she wouldn’t run soon enough and would instead be trapped into a marriage she didn’t want. He worried silently but incessantly, and only hard labor or a night with Nichol could clear his mind.

  With Nichol, the moods were less plain. He would be fine for days, for weeks, a brightly burning fire around which the rest of them could flutter to warm their own spirits. Then something might happen—word from the fleet, none of which was good, or an incident that reminded him of Jaime or Blake or Ollie—or nothing might happen, and he would still rise in a gray mood, disinclined to smile or to put up with the company of others. On those days, Nichol left the Cove before breakfast, and Colm learned that sometimes it was better not to go after him. Sometimes they both needed solitude, and Colm wasn’t going to press his luck by rendering himself unwelcome.

  Every evening, though, Nichol came back, and even if he was still silent and withdrawn, he slept nestled against Colm. If he was ready to let go of his mood, it was even better, and more often than not, their nights together began with hands and lips and tender kisses, thrusts and squirms and halting gasps as they took each other apart in their quest for pleasure.

  When the poor weather finally broke, two weeks before the start of spring, Nichol’s mood took an abrupt turn for the better. “Sunshine on the sea!” he exclaimed, running over to the taproom window and staring out at the sky, which was clear of clouds for once. “How fantastic! It’s past time. I thought the sun had decided to hide in the mountains forever.”

  “They should be so lucky,” Colm said absently, already thinking on his sister. “More likely the snow is still a foot deep and the loch frozen over.”

  “We should go out in it.”

  Colm looked curiously at Nichol. “We go out in it every day.”

  “No, I mean we should go out in the water. Sunshine on the water, Colm! Surely you want to feel that!”

  Colm wondered when Nichol had lost his mind. “It’s likely to be just a shade above freezing still, no matter how bright the sun shines today.”

  “Nonsense, it’ll be perfect for it.”

  “Are you ill, perhaps?” Colm imitated Megg and pressed a hand to Nichol’s forehead. “Has a fever taken you that I somehow failed to notice?”

  Nichol batted his hand away. “No, and no. I just… Look, it’s the sun, Colm! Don’t you want to…to be a part of it? And besides, you haven’t learned how to swim yet,” he added in what he clearly thought was a logical tone.

  “You want to teach me to swim in that? Today, really?”

  And then Nichol made that face, that terrible face that he kept locked away, to be used only when he wanted something. It was a pitiable face, blended with just enough pouty beauty that Colm, Megg and most of the people who worked at the Cove had difficulty saying no to it. “Oh gods, fine,” Colm said, downing the last of his tepid tea.

  Nichol laughed. “You won’t regret it! Or, you know, you might, but I certainly won’t.”

  Megg was less than amused. “I thought you outgrew this, Nichol! You can’t be draggin’ him out into the surf when he’s never even wet his toes before! What if he’s washed away?”

  “What if he turns into a seal?” Nichol retorted. “What if that happens and he swims in circles around me? Not that I expect it to,” he added quickly. “It can only happen if you’re a full half, and Grandad only became a seal at the end of his human life because the line between magic and man weakens then. You’re fine, you’re healthy, you wouldn’t… Don’t become a seal, Colm,” he finished with a frown.

  “I don’t think that would happen,” Colm said, although he was briefly reminded of the warm feeling of what should be cold water, the
way it made him itch sometimes, like his skin was too small. Still, he felt far more like a man, and a somewhat irritated one, than anything magical. But now Nichol was looking like he regretted bringing it up, his early happiness gone, and Colm hated to see that. “And I should certainly learn to swim.”

  “Right! Of course you should. You see, Gran?” He turned to Megg and grinned. “Today is a day for an adventure, even Colm agrees.”

  “He agrees with everything you say, and every path you lead him down,” Megg declared, but she sent them on their way a bundle of hot bread, spare clothes and an admonishment to “not be seen, for the gods’ sake!”

  “It’s sweet that she worries about our reputations,” Colm commented as they walked toward the sea wall. It was still fairly early, but the water was surprisingly still. There was a bite in the air but nothing like the cold of earlier in the week, and he felt his own heart lighten considerably just by being outside in the sun.

  “She worries for your reputation,” Nichol corrected cheekily. “I’m afraid mine is all done in. The boy with the bad luck, that’s me.” It didn’t seem to bother him too much today, but Colm still didn’t want his mind to go too far down that path.

  “Not so bad these days,” Colm said, and Nichol bumped their shoulders together.

  “Perhaps not,” he agreed. “I used to do this with them, you know. Jaime and the others. On the first nice day, we’d head out here and strip to our skin and jump in the water. It’ll be bloody cold, but there’s something about it that just feels right, like a ritual of spring. At least it did for us.”

  Nichol kept up a steady stream of chatter as they neared the sea wall. There were the remnants of old docks on the inland side of the piled-up boulders, shattered planks of wood that nevertheless provided them with something to climb down onto, rather than just jumping headfirst into the water. They’d sat just above them before, but now Nichol was stripping down to his skin, not bothering to wait for Colm, not waiting for anything. He handed his clothes to Colm and shivered a little in the breeze.