Chapter Nineteen
Finnvid lay in the snow, staring up at the shadowy face of the man holding him down.
A brutish, angry Torian had attacked him.
Out here in the forest, away from any help, where it would be easy to hide his body.
Finnvid was pinned, and even if he’d been able to get free, he couldn’t outrun his attacker, and certainly couldn’t outfight him.
And yet, he was not afraid. Nervous, maybe, but not afraid.
This was Theos, and that meant Finnvid was safe.
He wasn’t even cold anymore, not with the snow puffed up beside them to block the wind and with Theos’s body on top of him.
He brought his hands up, wishing he could take off the bulky mittens, and grabbed the back of Theos’s head.
He saw the flash of shock in the Sacrati’s eyes, and then things happened too quickly to truly understand.
Theos’s lips, hard and chapped against Finnvid’s, and then his tongue, the first taste of warmth Finnvid had felt in far too long.
A desperate, hungry sound, half-growl and half-moan, ripped from Theos’s throat and was lost in the wind before Finnvid had time to fully cherish it.
Theos’s hands held Finnvid’s unresisting shoulders, and Theos’s body pushed and drove and rutted against Finnvid’s, the tension and hardness and need clear even through all the layers of clothing.
Finnvid arched up to meet the sensations, then fought one leg free so he could wrap it around Theos’s thighs and pull him in tighter.
There were no thoughts, no plans, no attempts to shed clothing.
There were only their bodies, their mouths, and more than anything, their eyes.
They stared at each other and Finnvid saw it all.
Theos’s anger, his frustration, his desire.
His need and his want. Finnvid saw Theos’s excitement building, and it spread easily to his own body.
There shouldn’t have been enough contact, enough friction, but this was Theos.
Finnvid moaned into Theos’s mouth, clawed at his back with ineffective hands, and he begged, almost chanted, “Please. Theos, please. Theos, Theos. Please.”
Theos didn’t reply in words, but his grunts and gasps were an answer for Finnvid. They came together, both of them throwing back their heads and finally letting their eyes shut in ecstasy.
Even after he calmed, Finnvid didn’t want to move.
He wanted to stay there in the snow forever, with Theos a comforting, essential weight on top of him.
It didn’t matter if they both froze to death; their bodies could be found in the springtime, still wrapped around each other, and hopefully they’d be buried together so this embrace never had to end.
Fortunately for both of them, Theos was more practical.
He eased backward, careful of his weight, and pulled himself up until he was kneeling, gazing down at Finnvid.
And from that angle, Finnvid had a clear view as Theos’s expression changed.
In a matter of seconds it went from open and relaxed and affectionate to confused and almost alarmed. Then it settled on sardonic.
“What were you trying to distract me from this time?” he asked quietly. “Have your men stolen the deer while we were busy? Is there murder and mayhem back at camp, and you didn’t want me to interrupt?”
Finnvid supposed he deserved that. He knew he deserved it. But Theos was hardly an innocent victim. “I’m sorry. I guess the habits of slavery die hard. After months of being treated like property and expected to care about your every whim, I guess I was still inclined to serve you.”
“I don’t remember you caring about my every whim,” Theos replied.
He staggered to his feet, clearly not past his exhaustion, but just as clearly ready to get away from Finnvid and back to camp.
He looked down at Finnvid and rubbed his own crotch in distaste.
“I need to do some laundry while we’re stopped.
I hope the storm lasts long enough for things to dry, but even if it doesn’t, I’d rather wear something damp than something that reminds me of my stupidity with every step. ”
The hard words hurt, but Finnvid refused to show the sting. “How unexpectedly poetic you are. A treatise on washing seed out of clothing. Of course, I suppose you’d be the expert on that sort of thing.”
“Most of my seed finds more receptive homes.” Theos turned and nudged the deer with his foot, then sneered at Finnvid.
“Carry that in, why don’t you? There may as well be something productive to come from your little trip into the woods.
” He took a step toward camp, then stopped and squinted.
“What were you doing out here? What kind of spying happens in the middle of a blizzard?”
Finnvid wanted to lie, but he wanted to tell the truth more. “I was looking for you. I was worried about you.” He struggled to his feet. “So you’re not the only one feeling foolish.” He took his own step toward camp and then spun to say, “You can carry your own stupid deer.”
Petty, maybe, but he didn’t care. He made his way back to camp, the dampness of his underclothes quickly cooling into an uncomfortable mess, and tried to understand what had happened.
It had been nothing. Clearly that was true for Theos, and so it should be true for Finnvid as well.
But he remembered how Theos had moved, how he’d sounded and smelled and felt.
He remembered the fierce concentration on the other man’s face, as if he was memorizing Finnvid, claiming him and owning him.
Finnvid felt his cock stirring again and tried to ignore it.
He needed to think about something else. He needed to stop shaking.
The Elkati were sitting around one of the campfires, but he couldn’t join them.
They’d know. They’d realize he’d just— What had he done?
He’d never touched a woman like that, never even kissed in a more than friendly way, and now he’d .
. . done that . . . with another man. A Torian.
A Sacrati. Rutting like animals in the forest, soiling their clothes, risking their lives in the cold .
. . Theos was right. It had been stupid.
Worse than stupid. Dirty, unnatural, immoral. It had been wrong.
As Theos staggered into camp, the deer over his shoulders again, Finnvid crawled into the nearest snow mound.
The tunnel ran down a bit and then up, and as he emerged into the soft glow cast by several small flames, he realized that it was warm in the shelter.
Not hot, but above freezing, certainly. There was a bucket of water heating by one of the flames, probably a sign that someone else was planning to bathe.
But Finnvid didn’t care about the etiquette of stealing someone’s water.
He pulled his clothing off as if it were on fire, dropping it in a heap on the snowy floor.
Layer after layer, days’ worth of grime, and then the final evidence of his depravity on his underthings.
He stripped it all off, dipped his hands into the bucket of warm water and splashed it up and over himself.
It would be better if he had a brush or even a rough cloth, but he made do with his hands.
He scrubbed and scrubbed, and as the water in the bucket was consumed he scooped snow off the floor of the structure and dumped it into the bucket, barely letting it thaw before he used it on his body.
He heard a sound from the side of the cavern and whirled, seeing only then that all the mounds were joined through little tunnels. It was Andros’s familiar head that appeared at the low tunnel entrance, and he was dragging Finnvid’s pack along with him.
“Do you have clean clothes?” he asked, as if he assisted Elkati princes with frenzied bathing as a matter of course. “Something dry? We can probably get the rest of your things washed and dried before we leave. At least the inner layers. But you’ll need something to wear in the meantime.”
Finnvid stared at him. It was all so prosaic.
And Andros was, as always, so kind. Did he know what Finnvid had done?
But even if he did, Andros wouldn’t care.
He did those things himself. He did them in public, with people all around him.
It wasn’t— For Andros, it wasn’t shameful. It wasn’t unnatural.
Could it ever be that way for Finnvid?
It had been, he realized with a start. Of all the emotions that had washed over him in the forest with Theos, shame had been absent.
Even after Theos had pulled away, Finnvid hadn’t felt ashamed.
Angry and embarrassed and hurt, certainly.
But he hadn’t felt shame until he returned to camp.
Until he was back among his Elkati peers.
“You done washing?” Andros asked gently. He might not understand the exact reason for Finnvid’s agitation, and apparently he didn’t need to. Just as Finnvid had with Andros’s snakebite, Andros was treating Finnvid’s symptoms, if not the underlying injury. “You should get dressed. Stay warm.”
Finnvid nodded, which prompted the rest of his body into action. He rummaged through his pack and found clothes that were somewhat cleaner than the ones he’d been wearing and pulled them on. “There’s a way to wash the other stuff?”
“Lots of ways. If we were staying here longer, we could set up a line outside and hang the clothes on it, let the snow and the wind wash off the dirt. But that takes a couple days, and then you need drying time on top of that, so let’s just use water.”
Simple and matter-of-fact. Andros found a few more buckets, filled them with snow, and set them next to the small lamp to thaw.
“I didn’t know you carried lamps with you,” Finnvid said absently. “And fuel, too.”
Andros just grinned and then reached into the metal bowl and ran his finger around in the fuel. Then he popped his finger in his mouth and licked it clean. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “Fat cakes!”
Finnvid squinted at the lamp. “Fat cakes? Really?”
“They’re good for everything.”