Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Felix
So… I kinda thought that when Ari said he was fucked up, it was because of his world being destroyed and so many loved ones dying.
And I’m sure that’s a big part of it. But after hearing what he asked my mom—and remembering that he asked me a very similar question—I think the fucking-up started before the world ended.
I’m inclined to think it was his parents who did it.
Which is shit, because aren’t your parents supposed to be the ones you go to when someone else fucks you over?
Mine are. I knew I was lucky to have my family, but I never really considered how lucky I might be.
The thing is, now that I know his parents weren’t the most supportive, there’s a little voice in the back of my mind that’s wondering if the reasons he can’t make me promises are things I can… fix.
Not that he needs me to “fix” him. He’s fine exactly as he is. But we all have baggage, and maybe his is the kind that I can help him with.
And then he’ll change his mind about wanting a boyfriend, fall into my arms with fervent ardor, and we’ll live together happily ever after.
I blow out a long breath. My romantic side has a lot to answer for.
The truth of this situation is, I can gently raise the subject of Ari’s past and see if he wants to share anything, but I can’t make him.
Even if he does share, that doesn’t mean I have the right to put expectations in place.
Maybe he gave me the impression that he’d be into a serious relationship, but the whole “I can’t make promises” thing puts a limit on that.
Because yes, I want to try a serious relationship with Ari.
It’s been three days since we had dinner at my parents’ place, and the only time we’ve been apart was while we were working.
Maybe a cynic would say that’s because he offered himself up as my supplier of regular orgasms—and that’s true—but it doesn’t explain why he sleeps over.
Or why we go out for dinner. Why we watch TV together.
Why he brings me a mug of hot tea to wake me up in the morning.
Those aren’t things you consistently do when you’re just hooking up with someone.
Or I could be reading too much into this.
Either way, staring blankly at the microwave isn’t going to get me any answers.
“Fe?”
A shiver goes down my spine at the sound of my nickname rolling off Ari’s tongue.
I can’t even count how many people have called me Fe in my life, and it’s not like he’s trying to be sexy with it, but it still does it for me.
Maybe it’s the contrast of his officious formality when we met to now.
Back then, he never would have addressed me so casually or fondly.
“Yeah?” I turn around as he appears in the doorway, a smile breaking over his face when he sees me. That smile doesn’t help my conscience’s argument that I shouldn’t push him.
“Eoin just texted. We’re invited to eat at his majesty’s penthouse, if you want to go.”
It takes my brain a second to work through the reason Eoin would be issuing an invitation to the king’s home, but then I remember Jared telling Dáithí that he should come over when Eoin’s on overnight duty.
“Dáithí will be there too,” Ari says, confirming my train of thought and giving rise to a new set of suspicions.
“I’m good for it, but only if you’re prepared for a bunch of nosy questions.”
“What do—Oh.”
“Yeah. It’s not exactly a secret that we’re sleeping together, but I haven’t made any official announcements to my friends. Have you?”
He shakes his head slowly, deep in thought. “Do we care if they ask, though? It’s not as though they can force us to answer.”
I give him a minute to think about what he just said. He’s known Dáithí longer than me—a lot longer, according to Dáithí—so the idiocy of that sentence should be sinking in any—
“Fuck.”
—second now. “We don’t have to tell them everything,” I console. “But there are some things they’ll get out of us whether we want them to or not.”
He huffs a little, which I find surprisingly hot. Of course, I find most things about Ari hot, so I’m not sure why I’m surprised.
“Do we care?” he repeats. “I’ll probably push back if the questions get too invasive, but it doesn’t bother me if they know we’re together. I guess I’m like most people that way—I like to show off that I got a sexy guy.”
Hmm, yep. “Take off your pants,” I order, starting toward him.
A smile spreads across his face. “What? Fe, we need to leave in a minute.”
“This won’t take long. You can’t say stuff like that and not expect me to jump on your dick.”
The smile gets wider, and he lets me reach for his belt without protest. “What exactly did I say? This might be something I need to write down for future reference.”
I slide his zipper down and reach inside his underwear. The hitch in his breath as I take hold of his cock is music to my ears. “You know what you said. Now… How will I do this?” I glance around the kitchen, then literally lead him by the cock to the table and pull out a chair. “Sit.”
He obeys, whining a little as I let him go—though that might be because I make sure to stroke my fingertips over every millimeter of ridged skin as I do. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of those ridges. They feel so fucking good, from every angle.
It takes me seconds to strip off my own pants and underwear, and then I’m straddling Ari’s lap, grateful that elves—or maybe dragons—invented a spell to make lube and that Ari’s already slicked himself up.
By now, we know exactly how much prep I need to take him, and it’s the work of a few minutes to get me ready, and then the thick head of his cock is notched against my hole, slowly pressing in.
I mostly prefer to top, but in moments like this, I’m grateful to bottom.
We’re a little later than planned when we get to the king’s penthouse, and I realized shortly after my orgasm that I kept the motherfucking king of the elves waiting so I could get off.
Now I’m low-key freaked that he’ll know, somehow, and our small rudeness will blow up into a huge insult that might result in Ari losing his job.
Ari thinks my worries are funny. He assures me that the king isn’t all that fond of formal protocol, that he’s newly in a serious relationship and gets the whole spontaneous sex thing (which reminded me that the relationship he’s in is with Jared, and Jared, while fairly discreet, has occasionally said…
stuff), and that even if he was inclined to be a hard-ass about it this one time, it still wouldn’t be enough to justify firing Ari.
I’m not fully convinced about that, but Ari’s enjoying his post-coital chill, so I’m keeping my concerns to myself.
At least we saved some time by using a portal instead of driving. We’re only a teeny bit late.
We’re also standing in the middle of what appears to be a self-contained studio apartment. It’s cute, if tiny, and not at all like Jared’s description of the penthouse. Where’s the roof garden?
“Um, where are we?” I turn in a slow circle, noting how tidy the place is. If it wasn’t for the overnight bag at the end of the bed, I’d think nobody lived here.
“The security team’s rooms,” Ari informs me, heading toward a door beside the kitchenette. “This is where we stay when we’re on overnights.”
Oh. I take it in with new eyes. Considering that I thought they slept on the couch or used a tiny guest room, this is pretty nice. Private, fully kitted out, and the kitchenette is a nice touch. Now I understand why Jared told Dáithí he could just stay too.
“Felix? Are you coming?”
Snapping out of my thoughts and remembering that I’m still keeping the king waiting, I hurry after Ari.
On the other side of the door is a swanky living room, the kind that belongs in movies about stockbrokers who commit some kind of investment fraud.
The vibe is lots of money that doesn’t need to be flashy to be somehow dangerous.
It makes no sense, even in my head, but I like it.
It’s also devoid of people.
“We were supposed to meet them here, right?”
Ari shoots me a “how stupid do you think I am?” look. “Yes. They’ll be upstairs in the den. It’s a little cold for the garden tonight, but they might venture out anyway.”
We head upstairs, me taking everything in with wide eyes so I can tell my family exactly what the home of the elf king looks like, and then along a short hall and into another room. This one is decorated very differently, and it’s full of people.
Well, there are four of them. That’s a kind of full, right?
“Finally!” Dáithí declares. “We were about to order without you.”
“Sorry we’re late. I, uh, I had to finish. Something! I had to finish something before we left.” Oh wow, that’s embarrassing. When was the last time I got this twisted up talking about sex? Never, that’s when.
Oh, wait… when I was trying to avoid explaining my hormonal surges to Ari.
I guess it’s just talking to elves that makes me prudish.
“You’re not late,” the king says, his smile warm. “Welcome. I’m glad you came.”
The squeak that escapes me is entirely due to my nerves dissipating and my insides melting. Now I understand why Ari’s so dedicated to the king. Who says shit like that and genuinely, visibly means it?
A king, that’s who.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Should I have called him “sir” instead? It didn’t seem formal enough, but we are in his den at the moment, so maybe informal is the way to go.
“Please, call me Raeulfr.”
I laugh. “That’s kind of you, sir, but it’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
“Told you,” Jared says, leaning over to kiss the suddenly disgruntled king. “Don’t worry, we’ll work on him.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re all buddies here,” Dáithí cuts in. “Food? What are we getting?”
After a quick negotiation, we manage to order, and the conversation abruptly refocuses… on me and Ari.
“Sooooo,” Jared begins with a teasing smile, “Eoin said we didn’t need to send you an invite text because you were with Ari.”
I take a slug of the soda I asked for, wish there was some kind of alcohol in it, and nod. “Yep.”
“Just hanging out?”
“Rearranging my DVD collection.”
Dáithí pulls a face. “Who even has DVDs anymore? They were old-fashioned before we even got here.”
“That just means we had to dust it too,” I say seriously.
“Did I know you have a sense of humor?” Eoin asks me. “How did I miss that?”
I shrug. “You were too busy making Ari apologize to me to notice.”
Ari groans and slings an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.” I grin at him. “It’s my ticket to winning every argument we ever have.”
“Are you two together?” the king asks with a tone of dawning realization. “That’s wonderful! Unexpected, though.” He turns to Jared. “We weren’t expecting this, were we?”
“Not expecting. I was hoping, though. They make sense as a couple.”
I wince. Dammit, I didn’t want to get into this. “We’re friends. Don’t start slapping labels on us.”
There’s an awkward little pause, and then Jared says, “Okay, this will be a label-free zone. But, why?”
“Ari and I both have other commitments in our lives that we’re not willing to take focus from.” I’m proud of myself for coming up with that on the fly. “Hockey is a jealous mistress.”
Thankfully, that distracts them—for now at least—and talk turns to the upcoming game against the Glaives.
Ari gives me a little squeeze. Affection? Gratitude? Who knows.