Chapter Ten #2
“No one thinks you’re foolish, you’re a prince,” said Eric numbly. He sat down on the edge of Ix’s bed. He had really liked that cravat. His mother had embroidered little vines at the edges. And now it was gone. “At most it’s… eccentric. Demonic. Excusable.”
“I think your reaction is excusable. Your father just died. You’re suddenly poor and depending on the charity of a monster, and half the court thinks you’re about to turn traitor. And I, your cherished prince, most precious friend and benevolent benefactor, collapsed.”
Eric snorted despite himself. A reluctant grin pulled at the edges of his mouth and he saw a matching one on Ix’s wane face. “You’re going to get better. You’ll just have to cope with being powerless like the rest of us for a little while until then.”
“Powerless, am I?” Ix jabbed two fingers into Eric’s side just beneath his ribs and with his other hand hooked his fingers into Eric’s collar and yanked him backwards.
Caught off guard, Eric toppled over immediately, flopping across Ix’s bed with a deeply undignified gurgle he couldn’t control. He gasped for air as Ix sought out his squishy, most vulnerable spots to tickle him. “Mercy! Mercy, Ix. Gods, you’re insufferable.”
Ixthan brushed back the curls flung loose across Eric’s face. “And yet, you suffer me.”
Eric was all too aware of how close together they were lying.
His shoulder pressed against Ix’s chest, his hands clutching Ix’s uninjured forearm as he tried to stop the tickling, the brush of Ix’s fingers against his head.
It would be so easy to lean in to it. He was already fighting the dip of Ix’s mattress, the way it pulled him to roll towards Ix.
He swallowed, the words unexpectedly thick in his throat. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” There was a challenge in Ix’s eyes.
“Don’t tease me. I’m not in the mood for it.” Eric closed his eyes, but that didn’t stop the burning of Ix’s gaze on his face. Ix was the one meant to be bed bound but Eric was suddenly exhausted. He just wanted to to go sleep and wake up three months later.
An arm wrapped around his waist. Eric’s eyes flew open as Ix pulled him in until they were nestled in the same warm patch of the mattress, and then all he could see was the outline of Ix’s collarbone. “What–!”
“All right. I shan’t tease you then,” said Ix, his voice rumbling above Eric’s head.
Eric fought himself free, sitting up to stare down at Ix. “Who are you?”
Ix held up his hands. “There’s no pleasing you, is there? You don’t like it when I’m nice, you don’t like it when I’m not. Figure yourself out, will you, Marrawshire?”
“Sorry,” said Eric, feeling lost. “Sorry, I just–”
It had felt nice. Like a hug, sideways, with the weight of his arm against Eric’s side. His leg, draped over Ix’s knee. He didn’t know why he couldn’t allow himself to just enjoy it.
Actually, that was incorrect. He knew exactly why he couldn’t let himself enjoy it.
Ix didn’t mean it like that, had never meant it like that.
He was naturally charismatic, people gravitated towards him whether they liked him or not.
They either found him attractive and funny and charming, or scandalous and funny and charming. And that included flirting.
No one would ever seriously consider marrying their daughter off to a half-demon, who knew whether he was even capable of creating children the regular way and even if he were, no one wanted part-demon children forever in their family trees.
But all that meant was that he was a prime candidate for safe flirting, because everyone knew nothing serious would ever come of it.
Ix fed off that energy and attention and he gave as good as he got.
Eric had seen him flirt with anyone and everyone, from fresh debuts in society through to matronly widowers, men or women, that was just how it was, and then he would pull back if anyone mistook it as meaningful.
He’d flirt because it got a reaction out of people, and ‘people’ included Eric.
He wasn’t fool enough to think he was exempt from this just because they were old friends.
And that wasn’t even taking into consideration Eric’s position as a newly inherited earldom, son of a traitor.
A shadow fell over his face, blocking the remnants of light. He refused to open his eyes. Everything inside of him was wound so tightly between the funeral, the debt collectors, Petra, Ix’s collapse that he couldn’t even tell what was on the verge of snapping.
“You don’t need–”
“I don’t need to apologize. Yes, I know,” said Eric. “But you know, sometimes I want to. Not because I’ve done something wrong but because I want to smooth things over. So I can stop worrying about it.”
“You don’t ever need to worry about apologizing to me,” said Ix, his voice hovering just over Eric’s head. “Not when it’s me.”
“I’ve spent too long worrying about you to stop it now.” Eric swallowed, his throat feeling like a handful of harpstrings pulled taut. Why had he said that? What was it about Ix’s presence that made him so pathetic? It was like Ix’s sudden weakness was contagious.
“I consider myself a generous friend,” said Ix suddenly. “My reputation is for lavish presents, extravagant occasions, and the like. You know this about me.”
Eric didn’t know where this was going, so he didn’t say anything, just nodded into Ix’s chest. Keeping his eyes closed meant that Eric didn’t have to deal with Ix staring at him, or how weird it was that Ix didn’t have his own familiar cat eyes anymore, but it also meant that he didn’t see Ix move. Suddenly, his chin was in Ix’s grip.
“But I’m seldom lavish with my words. So lest I forget: I know you went to speak with Lymond on my behalf. And I appreciate that. Amongst other things.”
“You know. You know how I feel about you,” said Eric with a leaden heart.
He’d never admitted that out loud before.
Or even privately in his own mind. It was so much easier to pretend that he had been subtle about it or that he was just matching Ix’s flirting when it happened.
He’d skittered close to admitting it, once.
They’d been mock-wrestling after some stupid argument that had all their friends divided and Eric had come out of it rumpled and flushed and pretending it was simply from the exertion of grappling a stronger man, and Petra had sent him the most pitying look over the top of her teacup.
But he’d successfully pinned that thought down and skewered it into pieces before it could take root.
Then Eric could delude himself and say that Ix never noticed Eric mooning over him because everyone mooned over him so, rather than the idea that Ix knew and didn’t reciprocate.
But that was purely wishful thinking, because someone would have to be blind to not see the way Ix’s mood affected his own so badly.
“And yet, you’ve never made a move before. So tragically noble, saving yourself for a woman as a hold out attempt to please your father.”
Ouch. The mattress moved under them and Eric felt his weight shift.
He opened his eyes to see Ix lying on his side, so close that Eric could feel his body warmth radiating off him.
He was propped up on one elbow and his free hand rested lightly, oh so casually, on Eric’s hip.
“Even when I made it clear I was interested.”
“What?” said Eric, instantly distracted. “No, you haven’t!”
Ix drummed his fingers against Eric’s hip, as if to prove his point.
“That was just – to make me feel better about the debt,” Eric spluttered, completely caught out for once. He half-expected Ix to say this was a prank or laugh at him, but nothing. He swallowed. “You flirt with everyone and you’re free with your affections.”
“It makes you mad,” said Ix, and slid his hand back, so close to cupping the curve of Eric’s ass.
Well. He was not incorrect. Eric veered straight out of self-pity and was mad immediately, in fact. He sat up indignantly. His ass mourned the contact. “What! How is that – Why! Why would you do that!”
Ix rolled over onto his back, regarding Eric out of the corner of his eyes and smirked. Even before he opened his mouth, Eric knew whatever he was going to say was going to make him even more mad. “I find it attractive when you’re hot and flustered.”
Eric jumped off the bed, snatched a pillow and smacked Ix full in the chest with it. He could feel the red rising in his neck, his face, his back. “That’s, that’s,” He couldn’t find any appropriate words, so he stalked away, then back.
“Very attractive,” said Ixthan, peeling back the pillow from his torso and bending one leg up on the bed to reveal — oh.
Anything even resembling a thought in Eric’s mind vanished into thin air. He opened his mouth. Shut it again. Opened it again. Still didn’t have anything to say, so went for another frantic pace around the room. It was as if anything inside his head had completely melted.
“Come here, you idiot,” said Ix, and threw the pillow back at him.
Eric obeyed, stumbling back until Ix reached over the side of the bed and hauled him bodily on.
Eric sprawled, landing on Ix’s chest with a gasp, Ix’s arms winding around him to prevent him from immediately sliding back off again.
Ix’s eyes sparkled with a challenge. “Well? Aren’t you going to kiss me? ”
Eric couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss Ix or punch him more.
He adjusted his weight, throwing one leg over to straggle Ix’s weight and give himself better balance and then surged forward and kissed him.
Ix’s jaw was strong, sculpted, beneath the palms of his hands.
He fumbled through it, pressing his lips against Ix’s and leaning into it when Ix’s mouth opened.
A hand wended into his hair, Ix’s grip on the back of his head guiding him.
The feel of Ix’s tongue against his, sliding into his mouth, made him groan, the undulating wetness and warmth clouding his mind.
He could feel Ix’s breath against his cheek, the brush of his eyelashes when Ix blinked.
Gods, he’d forgotten about blinking. Ix’s other hand, stroking down his back from rib to hip.
He wasn’t sure how long they kissed, it could have been a heartbeat, it could have been ten thousand; whatever it was, it wasn’t enough.
Eric was hard. He’d gotten so used to ignoring that fluttering, clenching sensation low in his belly until it went away that he almost didn’t notice it this time until Ix’s roaming hand stopped at his lower back and pressed down and he could feel the ache of his cock trapped between their bodies.
This was different to last time. Last time had been a version of themselves, Ix playing the monstrous prince, Eric the vassal in debt.
It had let him distance him from it. This time, it was just them as they had always been: competitive, showing off.
He let his hands trail against the firmness of Ix’s muscles, throwing his leg over Ix’s hip to press them as close as possible, traced his mouth from lips across his jaw and down his neck, hard enough to leave marks.
Ix pressed his fingertips against Eric’s entrance, slick with that oil of his.
“That’s unfair,” Eric hissed as his stomach clenched with desire.
“Then tell me to stop,” said Ix with a sneer.
Eric spread his legs so Ix could sink two fingers into Eric’s ass.
He bore down into it with a groan. He loved it all, the way the stretch burned, the way he felt filled, the way Ix moved his hand to find the angle that made Eric’s mind dissolve like a sugar cube and thrust.
He had to find something that would make Ix lose his mind the same way. Eric circled both their cocks with his hand.
“I like it. This texture is more sensitive.” Ix hummed with pleasure; it wasn’t enough.
Eric squeezed harder before picking up the pace, the oil making obscene slick noises.
Ix grunted and canted into it. Oh, he had his attention now.
Ix’s breath against his cheek became ragged.
He used both hands to vary the strokes, fast, then slow, squeezing in the way he did when he wanted it to last. He didn’t know what Ix’s cock was usually like but if this one was more sensitive, then – Eric cupped his palm over Ix’s slit and rubbed.
Ix came with a startled shout, thrusting into Eric’s hand. He felt Ix’s seed, hot and sticky, cover his palm. “What was that!”
Eric smugly raised his hand and licked it clean. “Point mine.”
Pulling his fingers out of Eric’s ass, Ix flipped Eric face down into the mattress with a swing of his arm. Eric yelped; all the air went out of his chest as Ix hefted his considerable entire weight onto Eric’s back.
“We’ll see about that,” Ix growled into Eric’s ear as he fucked Eric with his fingers hard and fast. Eric’s eyes rolled into his head as each thrust forced pleasure through his entire body.
He could feel the heat of Ix panting against the nape of his neck, the limp weight of Ix’s cock on the back of his thigh, the drape of Ix’s thick hair across his back.
The smell of Ix was thick in his nose and the taste of Ix’s seed coated his tongue still.
Ix bit, hard, into the meat of Eric’s shoulder and suddenly, it was too much.
Eric’s cock, trapped under his stomach, spilled under his belly and his ass tightened around Ix’s fingers. Eric fisted his hands into the sheets as he came, violent and shuddering and yowling like a cat in heat as Ix kept him pinned beneath him.
It took Eric several tries to muster up enough breath. Between gasps, he muttered, “We can consider that a tie.”
Ixthan had the audacity to laugh at him.