Chapter Three #3
Tor did wonder, sometimes, if it wouldn’t have been better to declare it from the beginning and just continue as they meant to go on.
He’d sort of… thought that Pel might want to tell people by now, and the ongoing silence niggled at Tor.
But he wouldn’t undermine Pel. He’d said it was his choice, and he meant it.
“Don’t mess this up,” Larexa told him intently.
“I’ll do my very best,” Tor promised.
He’d been far from perfect so far, but he really was committed to giving Pel everything he could possibly want.
Tor wasn’t always the very best with words or figuring out how a relationship worked, but it was a valid strategy to draw someone in with lots and lots of fantastic sex, right?
Tor could at least show off something he was very good at that way.
Tor’s room now came stocked with a regular supply of oil, extra towels, more nightshirts, and extra blankets and pillows.
Tor couldn’t positively prove that people had worked out who he was having sex with, but Tor had his suspicions.
Pel still left early in the morning before anyone came in, but it was hard to keep this sort of secret.
He’d noticed that the number of people approaching him with interest in an encounter had also dropped off, which he was taking to mean they approved of his choices and were letting him and Pel figure things out.
Tor wished there were a guide on exactly how you were supposed to approach the topic of more with the person you were pretty sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life with…
but at least they spent most of their time together and had all sorts of really hot sex.
It was a place to start.
Once or twice a week, rather than going out to visit the neighboring farmers and villagers, Pel took Tor to see landmarks instead.
Baless was built into the foothills of the eastern mountains, and today, Pel guided him higher into the foothills.
He’d brought a blanket and a picnic and everything, and he seemed perplexed when he realized how much Tor didn’t like it.
Tor hadn’t wanted him to think he didn’t like the picnic, but he’d apparently been worse at hiding his reaction than he’d hoped.
“How can you not like a mountain?” Pel wanted to know. “It’s like not liking clouds or lakes or grass.”
Tor shrugged.
The weather was so nice that they’d left the horses to crop grass and were lounging under a tree.
There was a small stream meandering by, and really, it was a lovely secluded spot, perfect for all sorts of play if Tor wasn’t aware that the mountain was still looming.
It wasn’t like it didn’t loom when he was in the castle, but maybe it was the act of moving deliberately closer?
“Hey,” Pel said, nudging him companionably with his shoulder. “It’s all right. Whatever it is.”
Tor swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d grown so used to his brother being dismissive of his feelings. He’d acted up to that, of course, so it wasn’t like he was blameless, but it was unexpectedly nice to have someone who accepted him as he was.
He sprawled back so that he was staring up at the blue sky instead of looking at any mountains. It made everything feel a lot more open, which made it a little easier for Tor to breathe.
“It’s not really this mountain,” he said after a long moment, contemplating the wisps of clouds, just enough white that he could stare at them and try to make shapes out of them and not think too much about anything else. “It’s those ones, over there.”
He waved a hand, but he didn’t look at them.
He could hear the puzzlement in Pel’s voice. “What about them? I mean, I agree they do look a bit ominous with those clouds, but I didn’t think that would bother you.”
Tor’s chest ached as he admitted, “It’s where they all died.”
Well, more or less. His guards had died where the mountain range turned and bordered Filon. But it was basically the same place, the same gloomy stone that loomed large in his vision, reminding him of his mistakes and the tragedy he’d caused.
Pel’s distressed face suddenly filled Tor’s field of vision as he leaned over Tor.
“I’m sorry, Tor. I didn’t think.”
Tor swallowed and shook his head. “Not your fault. I didn’t really think it through, either.”
Pel kissed him, and Tor leaned up into the kiss gratefully, happy to stop thinking for a little while.
After a moment, though, Pel softened the kiss and pulled back, still looking down at Tor. “You know the patrols are near those mountains, right?”
Tor nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Pel looked unconvinced.
“Really,” Tor insisted. “Do I strike you as the sort of person who lets something they fear get in their way?”
Slowly, Pel shook his head. “No, you strike me as the sort of person who pretends nothing frightens him and wanders out to the mountains for what was supposed to be a lovely lunch but was probably awful for him.”
“It can’t be awful,” Tor told him truthfully. “I’m with you.”
Pel got a funny look on his face, and Tor, who’d thought that was a perfectly natural thing to say, suddenly worried that he’d gone too far, admitted something he wasn’t supposed to admit yet. Maybe—
And then he realized that Pel was holding out his hand.
“Would you Tendril with me?” he asked.
Tor stared at him for an embarrassingly long time, stunned so completely that it was like his brain had stopped working. Far from being unwelcome, Tor’s declaration had made Pel decide—
Tor felt his face light up, knew he was smiling too big, but he didn’t care. Even as he realized that Pel’s ears had gone red and his hand was wavering, Tor sat up and flung himself at the other man, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a flurry of kisses to his face.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he gasped out between kisses, exhilaration rushing through him. “I didn’t want to rush you, and I couldn’t figure out when was an acceptable time to ask. Yes!”
Pel was laughing, his arms coming around to clutch at Tor a bit too tight. He was trying to kiss him back, but the laughter and Tor’s sudden need to kiss all over his face was making it hard for him to reciprocate. He clutched harder at Tor’s tunic.
“Yes,” Tor affirmed one more time before sealing his mouth over Pel’s.
Pel surged into the kiss, and Tor tried to meet him emotion for emotion, all his excitement and need and hope, because Pel had had the courage to ask Tor if he would Tendril with him.
Pel was suddenly moving to straddle Tor’s legs, and Tor grabbed his ass and hauled him closer. Pel ground down, and Tor thrust up, both of them gasping at the sensations.
He had just enough presence of mind to realize making a mess of their underclothes was a bad idea, and there was a sudden scrambling for clothing and rearranging so they could suck one another, frantic and eager until they were coming in one another’s mouths.
They tucked themselves away to maintain at least the illusion of decency in the unlikely event someone interrupted them. Pel was propped up against Tor now, though, and Tor didn’t think anyone would mistake this for a casual lunch between friends.
But maybe that didn’t matter. Pel had asked to Tendril. He’d never Tendrilled with anyone, and Tor knew his feelings about Tendrilling were tied up in his feelings about magic. So to have asked this? Tor couldn’t help but be buoyed with a giddy hope for what this could mean for them.