by T D Cloud
“No, no,” Khouri rushed, cheeks flushed all the darker in the moonlight. “That’s… It’s just... I don’t know how to process it.” He bit his full bottom lip, shyly meeting Sorin’s gaze. God, he’d never looked more beautiful. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Sorin blinked. His brow furrowed. “What do you mean no one’s ever said that to you before?” he asked, shifting a little as Khouri wriggled and tightened. “Are you telling me that you’ve been with Navidae for fifty years and he hasn’t told you he loves you?” Khouri shifted again, his gaze as avoidant as he could manage given they were nose to nose. “When you say it like that, you make it sound bad,” he muttered. “Things aren’t… It’s not the kind of thing Drow do.” He carefully met Sorin’s eyes. “We don’t really do love.”
“So, what you’re saying is Navidae’s too much of a coward to say it to you,” he deadpanned, reading between the lines easily. He’d seen them together enough to know that there were feelings there. They could dress it down however they wanted and say that the concept was foreign to them, but Sorin knew love when he saw it.
...Well, he could pretend he knew. He was working on it, and this was the first step, really. Further than Navidae had gotten at least, so he wasn’t doing that bad all things considered. He’d had fifty years to get his head out of his ass. Sorin was way ahead of the curve.
Shit, Khouri was saying something. Sorin forced himself back to the present, to the very beautiful present in which he had a gorgeous lover laid out on the beach beneath the moonlight, naked and warm and so soft that Sorin had to tell himself he wasn’t dreaming.
“-and it’s not like he hates me or anything,” Khouri rambled, staring at the sand at his shoulder, at the blanket beneath his head. “Navi, he just— it’s okay,” he said, meeting Sorin’s eye. “I’ve never needed him to say it. I know how he feels about me, and he knows how I feel about him, right? So, it’s not that weird, is it? We’ve— I’m telling you I’ve got no experience with any of this.”
Sorin sighed, cupping Khouri’s cheek with his hand, soothing him before he could work himself up to a fit. “You don’t need to make excuses for him,” he said, knowing well enough the sort of culture Khouri and Navidae came from. He leaned closer, kissing Khouri’s cheek and brow and lips lastly but lingering for a moment until their kiss dominated everything. When they broke apart, Khouri was panting softly, staring up at him with need in his eyes.
“You don’t need to explain it to me,” Sorin said, rolling his hips just to see how Khouri melted with pleasure. “I just wanted to say it.”
“But why?” Khouri tangled his fingers in Sorin’s hair, blinking eyes so dark that Sorin couldn’t tell them from the night around him. He licked his full lips in a way that was probably unintentional. It felt anything but. “Why me?”
Who else was there? Sorin lived his life in a way that didn’t build relationships. He was on the road so much, coming and going so often that there was never time for something meaningful. And for the longest time, that had been enough for him.
“Because,” Sorin said, knowing he’d wasted too much time as it was on being alone. “You’re a brat and you make my life hell. I love every minute of it.”
“Sorin…” Khouri closed his eyes and relaxed against the blanket, his thumb stroking along the line of Sorin’s cheekbone. “Please. I want you. I love being with you too.”
Sorin kissed him, moving his hips steadily now. Khouri gasped against his lips; his hands fell to Sorin’s shoulders, clutching at him tightly as he gave in to the pleasure. This was something Sorin was used to: making love, even when it wasn’t quite love. Sorin moved a little faster and worked Khouri a little harder. He loved it. He loved being able to see Khouri melt like ice in his hands, overwhelmed and craving more and pacified by the darkness. By the warmth Sorin shared with him so eagerly.
And Khouri seemed to love it too. He’d had more sex in his lifetime than Sorin could scarcely imagine, but this...
This was all Sorin’s.
Khouri threw back his head against the blanket, the inky strands of his hair bleeding into the darkness, illuminated by the gentle candlelight. Each strand shined like spidersilk, and the indigo blush resided high on his cheekbones, muted in a way Khouri always was. Sorin bit his lip and moved a little faster, coaxing that blush to deepen. This wasn’t going to last as long as they both wanted it to; it never did.
A breeze rolled in off the ocean, cooling the sweat on his skin. It stirred Sorin’s hair, and Khouri clutched him tighter, shivering against his chest. The scent of him filled Sorin’s lungs, intoxicating like wine.
“Close,” Khouri gasped, his thighs tightening around Sorin’s hips, his eyes blown black and unseeing even as they looked at him desperately. “So close. More. Please. Sorin, Gods. Please.”
Fuck. It’d been too long, just as Khouri had said. Sorin felt his blood burn, his knees aching as he went harder. The sand shifted beneath the blanket, and Sorin grabbed Khouri’s thigh in one hand, rutting into him until he couldn’t take it any longer.
Khouri’s voice gave out in a choked whine. No amount of holding back would make this last longer—
Sorin began to pull out. He was going to come at this rate, and he’d rather finish Khouri off with his mouth than make him wait. Khouri arched and gasped, writhing and whining. He stared at Sorin questioningly until he realized what Sorin was trying to do.
“No,” Khouri gasped, his voice just a breath of intent and not much else. To make up for the weakness in his words, he held tighter with his legs, wrapping them around Sorin’s hips before he could pull out more than an inch. “Inside. Do it inside.”
“Khouri,” Sorin groaned, saying it like a swear. The mess that would make. The times Khouri had complained to him about marking him like that, of claiming him in such a way— Fuck, fuck, he wanted this. Khouri wanted to feel it inside him, and Sorin couldn’t do much more than give it to him. He drove into him harder, faster, control lost in the face of it all. Khouri held tightly to his shoulders, hiding his face, but his sounds… They were loud enough to make up for it.
Khouri came with a soft, broken cry, and Sorin didn’t last long after that. How could he? Khouri clenched like a vice, wringing him dry as he scrambled and scratched, arching his spine like a bow. Sorin had to watch— no, he forced himself to watch, peppering kisses when he could and rocking in and out, gently, so gently, until Khouri was dripping inside and out, a mess in every way.
Sorin pulled out and watched Khouri catch his breath, his body trembling and his eyes dazed as they stared at the stars above. Gravity was stronger than Sorin in that moment. He rolled onto his shoulder and landed beside Khouri, ragged and worn around the edges as his vision slowly returned to normal. His hands couldn’t seem to stop touching the body next to him; Khouri’s skin danced beneath his fingers, his ribs rising and falling, his pounding heartbeat kissing the tips of Sorin’s fingers as they passed over and over again.
In the candlelight, under the moon… Sorin could live a thousand years and never see something half as beautiful as this.
A slender hand caressed Sorin’s cheek weakly. Sorin blinked back to the present, leaning into Khouri’s gentle touch. His soft fingers ghosted over Sorin’s lips. “I love you,” Sorin whispered, letting him feel the shape of his words, the warm of his breath as he spoke them into existence. “Khouri. God. I love you.”
“What did you expect?” Khouri smiled, out of breath but wearing it so well that it didn’t feel fair. He moved his hand to stroke his knuckles down Sorin’s cheek. “You made love to me enough times… It was bound to happen, right?”
Sorin covered his hand in his own. “Don’t ruin the mood,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Khouri closed his eyes and leaned into the affection, tilting his head to grant Sorin easier access to his ear, his neck, his nape.
“Ah, Sorin.” His voice was just a sigh, nearly lost in the gentle call of the ocean before them. His dark lashes flu
ttered against his cheeks like the dark, downy wings of moths. “Sorin. Can I say it? I want to say it too.”
It was hard not to smile against Khouri’s pretty neck, even when he felt his lips trace the shape of Navidae’s bite marks. Fifty years. Fifty years of this and that and these marks, and Khouri wanted now to be the time he first said I love you. The thought was a good one, Sorin had to think. It warmed his blood, echoing the pleasure they had just enjoyed.
He pulled his lips from Khouri’s neck and sighed. “I want to hear you say it,” he admitted, “but—”
“I lov—”
Khouri’s eyes went wide, crossing a little as he tried to look at the hand now covering his lips. Sorin smiled, shaking his head. “I’ll only let you say it to me on one condition,” he said, moving his hand to stroke the heady shape of Khouri’s full bottom lip.
“Oh, really? And what’s that?”
Something churned in Sorin’s stomach, but he knew it would pass. “I want you to promise me you’ll say it to Navidae too,” he said, keeping his eyes on Khouri’s lips, on how they parted in a soft gape. “Once we get back. If you feel it, you need to tell him. He might surprise you and say it back.”
Khouri’s eyes slowly fell to half-mast. His sigh warmed the tips of Sorin’s fingers. When he looked at Sorin, it was with something unreasonably warm in his eyes. “You’d really…” Khouri’s laugh was just a puff of warmth, the slightest shaking of his head. “You keep on surprising me. You’d let me say it to both of you. Where’s that jealousy I’ve come to know so well?”
Oh, it was still there. It lurked somewhere deep in Sorin’s gut, slumbering like a dragon but sated for the moment. It hadn’t stirred in awhile, though. Something told him it wouldn’t be roused easily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sorin groused, moving his hand through Khouri’s hair. His thumb skimmed the gold of Khouri’s earring. “Do we have a deal or not?”
A smile graced Khouri’s lips, the sharp, teasing band of his teeth peeking out as he licked his soft lips. He nodded and rolled on top of Sorin, spreading himself out along his chest. “I love you, Sorin,” he said quietly, letting his words drift like the currents of the sea, drowning Sorin in his sincerity. “And I promise.”
“Good,” Sorin sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. His chest was tight, his body tingling with a warmth he’d never known before. Sorin held Khouri close, content to drift for as long as the tide allowed.
If this was what drowning felt like, then he could imagine far worse ways to go.
Chapter Five
“—and the secret is to keeping adding butter until… Khouri, are you even listening to me?”
Khouri blinked his way back to awareness, his hands fumbling the jar of jam he’d been tasked with labeling for storage. Mastha was turned towards him, one hand on her hip and the other stirring the pot of potatoes as she stared at him in a way that reminded Khouri of Sorin. Khouri sat a little straighter and tried to play off his inattentiveness with a smile and a nod.
Heddi snorted into her apple peels. “Liar,” she said, grinning at Khouri. “He’s been staring at that jar the past ten minutes.”
“Hey!” Khouri hissed, his cheeks burning at the betrayal. “No one likes a snitch!”
He stuck his tongue out when Heddi stuck out her own, struggling not to laugh when the girl put her hands on either side of her head like some sort of strange, horned creature.
“And no one likes being ignored,” Mastha interjected before Heddi could come up with a retort. “No sticking your tongue out, both of you. It’s rude.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Khouri and Heddi muttered, glaring at one another when they realized they were in sync.
“Good.” Mastha took another look at her potatoes before turning down the heat and putting on the lid. “Now, what’s on your mind, Khouri? Or did you just make yourself sick again from eating too much sugar?”
“He hasn’t eaten any,” Heddi reported primly. “I’ve been watching him to make sure.”
Was that why she sat there instead of beside him? Little nark. “I was thinking about Sorin,” Khouri mumbled, his ears burning as Heddi snickered and made kissy faces at him from across the table. He was sorely tempted to stick his tongue out at her again, but with Mastha and her spoon so close, he knew better than to risk it.
Mastha stared at him knowingly. “Oh, really,” she said levelly. “What about, pray tell?”
Khouri slumped in his seat, face on fire. She knew, didn’t she? She couldn’t be so cruel as to make him say it aloud in front of Heddi. “Things,” he said, his tone clipped and more than embarrassed. “We were talking last night, and he… said some stuff to me. And now I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Heddi punctuated his words with another round of kissing noises.
“What sort of stuff?” Mastha pressed. “You know.” He squirmed. “Stuff.”
“Kissy stuff!” Heddi interjected. Khouri glared at her again, hating how she wasn’t wrong. “Khouri’s embarrassed about all the kissy stuff Uncle Sorin said to him last night.”
“Go out and play, Heddi,” Mastha sighed, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.
Heddi dropped her peeler in outrage. “What? Why? I want to stay and—”
Mastha leveled her daughter with a look and pointed at the door. “Go. Out. And. Play.”
The girl rolled her eyes and kicked back her chair, stomping her way outside. Khouri slowly sat up, his eyes locked on the jar of jam in his hands. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said, hoping Heddi wasn’t too upset with him. “She wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“No, but she’s got young ears, and young ears don’t need to hear us talk about this sort of thing.” She sat herself down in the seat Heddi left, taking up the peeler to finish what her daughter had started. For a moment, Khouri just watched her work; she was endlessly confident with the task. Where Heddi had little bits of peel everywhere, Mastha had one long, continuous ribbon.
She caught him staring when she glanced up. Her lips curled into a wry smile. “Out with it then,” she said, nodding her head at him. “What did Sorrie say that has you spacing out like that?”
Khouri snorted a little at the nickname. He crossed his arms and looked at the pot bubbling away on the stove. “He said that he loved me,” he murmured, fidgeting when he heard her peeling stop. His skin prickled with sweat. She was staring again, only this time much harder than before.
“He said… Excuse me, he said what now?”
Shit. She put the peeler down. Khouri slumped even more, wishing he could hide under the table. “Is it really that surprising?” he wondered, chancing a look at her. She was bent forward in her seat, eyes wide and mouth agape. “He took me down to some cove and…” He flushed, averting his eyes. “And he… said he loved me.”
Mastha fell back against her seat, staring at the ceiling. “I need to write Neana,” she breathed. “Holy shit, she’s never gonna believe this.” She rubbed her eyes again and looked at Khouri carefully. “Do you love him?”
Khouri pulled his legs onto the chair, wrapping his arms around them so he could hide his face in his knees. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing his ears were flushed violet. How was he supposed to know what he felt? They didn’t use words like that down in the Duskriven. He thought he did. It felt… right saying it.
“I like traveling with him,” he said eventually, chancing a look at Mastha. She didn’t seem angry that he wasn’t jumping at the bit to say yes. That was good, he supposed. “I like being with him. He makes me feel good about myself. If that’s love then… yeah...” Khouri furrowed his brow. “But why is that so weird? Is he not usually so affectionate?”
Mastha laughed, tossing her head. “Affectionate s‘not a word I’d ever use to describe Sorrie,” she said, “unless it’s talking about family. Even then, he hides it behind distance and gifts and gruff.” She leaned back in her chair and looked at the wall, eyes distant as she thought back. “He never really had partners
growing up. Sure, he’d sneak them into his room or he’d take them down to the beach when Mom and Dad had gone to sleep, but it was all just fun for him. That’s how I saw it, anyway. It never seemed like he looked for anything serious.”
She took up another apple for want of something to do, slicing this one and holding out a wedge for Khouri. He reached across the table and took it, biting into the crisp fruit slowly.
Mastha cut herself a piece and sighed. “I didn’t know you two were that serious,” she admitted, taking a bite. Her lips quirked into a smile. “I never thought I’d see the day he got serious.”
Khouri swallowed his mouthful. The apple was good. Better than the ones Navidae had delivered to their table. He’d never really noticed it much before, no grounds for comparison really, but the magic the traders employed to stock Navidae’s larder dulled the taste a bit. Would Navidae complain if he knew?
Then again… It wasn’t as if Navidae knew the difference. He didn’t know what he was missing, so he had no reason to care.
He blinked when another apple wedge was held out to him. “This is probably weird for you to talk about,” he said, taking it gratefully.
“Oh, it is.”
Khouri winced. “Sorry.”
Mastha grinned. “Sorry? Don’t be. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You don’t have siblings, do you, Khouri?” When he shook his head, she laughed under her breath. “Knew it. It’s my job to make fun of him for this kind of thing. And to support him in whatever he finds that makes him happy. God knows he’s supported me when Mom and Dad hassled me for my choices.”
“Choices?” He said the word before he really thought about the logic of asking such a private thing. His eyes widened, and he blushed, waving his hand a bit when Mastha glanced up at him with her brow raised. If there was one thing he’d learned about their parents while here, it was that it was better not to bring them up. “Ignore me. You don’t need to tell me.” He was just a stranger, really.