Chapter Twelve
He knew he would be seeing the gods not because he was told, but because no one woke him in the morning.
It had been a while; he wondered if they had asked for him or if a month had passed.
He still hadn’t gotten the hang of keeping track of time.
It didn’t help that the season did not seem to progress at all; it remained pleasantly warm day in and day out, the only change being an occasional passing rain.
If he had been here as long as it felt he had, the Linwoods would be changing color and the village was probably wearing sleeved tunics to handle the growing chill.
He lazed in bed as long as he could, but grew bored of that and sat in front of the mirror to try on different necklaces and earrings.
He had a few now. After a heated, days-long argument with Gionan, the attendant had finally surrendered to Ethyr having his ears pierced.
Yorith gave indifferent permission, to Gionan’s visible annoyance, so he was brought to the palace physician to do it.
Gionan, evidently resigned to the futility of being opposed to it, subsequently brought Ethyr more earrings to “round out his collection.”
Ethyr much preferred long dangling ones. They emphasized his slender neck.
He was dressed in the purple-blue translucent pants and a silvery purple split-side tunic, though the split didn’t end at his hips, instead going all the way up to his armpits and leaving only crisscrossed ribbons to keep it closed at the sides.
Pure silver bangles adorned his wrists and one ankle, sandals were placed on his feet, and no belt but a delicate silver choker around his neck was the finishing touch.
Yorith didn’t accompany him to the temple anymore, and there was no fanfare whatsoever about it. Plates of food and canters of wine were put on the table and Ethyr was unceremoniously handed the bowl of petals. Klara still waited to make sure he ate them before she left.
He startled awake to a ruckus of jeering and shouts. The gods all had their attention on an activity taking place in the center of the room: Catocus hammering into Ainder from behind, who in turn seemed intent on slamming back just as hard.
Ethyr couldn’t help staring in perverse shock.
The other gods were intermittently shouting instruction or suggestion, or cheering one of the two on while taunting the other.
When he finally managed to rip his eyes from the scene, his gaze met Kiaro’s, leaning disinterestedly against the wall, and Ethyr whipped his head around to face literally anything else.
Ithna was the next to notice him. She beckoned him over eagerly, but he hesitated for a long moment before prying himself from the seat to sit by her, uncomfortably close to the fervid entertainment.
“They started arguing about who would last longer,” she explained. “I placed my bet on Catocus.”
“Ethyr!” Gallus exclaimed, throwing himself over Ithna and Gnaeus to reach him and ignoring their loud complaints.
It took a second for Ethyr to realize that the arm tugging and puckered lips indicated a request for a kiss.
He leaned over and planted one on Gallus’s mouth to appease him.
Instead of sitting up again, Gallus chose to recline more languidly across the two laps, which was begrudgingly tolerated.
The announcement of his arrival had drawn Ainder’s attention, even occupied as he was.
He winked at Ethyr, who snapped his eyes to his lap, but the sudden increase in vocal passion drew them back up.
Ainder had lifted from the floor, forcing Catocus onto his heels, and rode him faster still, groaning loud cries of pleasure.
The smug grin plastered on his face proved that it was all a show, and an easy one at that.
Catocus, by contrast, had a hard look of concentration accompanied only by grunts of effort.
“Oh, come on, Cat!” Ithna shouted, the burst of noise right beside him startling Ethyr. “Get back on top! He’s making a tool out of you!”
A few more thrusts and Catocus gave a telling moan, his movements jerking to a stop. Ithna clicked her tongue with sighed disappointment and tossed her hands.
“Told you,” Gallus sang. “Control can’t beat skill.”
“Shut up,” Ithna said, but she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
Ainder pulled himself triumphantly off Catocus and turned around, giving the other god’s cheek a light smack. He scowled and swatted him away.
Ethyr realized when they were done that he hadn’t even thought to look away, all of it too appallingly mesmerizing not to watch. When the two stood, their clothes appeared from thin air back onto their bodies, which was mesmerizing in its own way.
“Who’s next?” Ainder asked. “Ethyr?”
Ethyr jolted, heat immediately racing across every inch of his skin. Ainder laughed loudly and plopped to the ground by the group, dragging Gallus from Ithna and Gnaeus’s laps to his own.
“Don’t tease him,” Langath chastised from down the line. “You’ll scare him.”
“Why not?” Ainder replied nonchalantly. “I bet he’s never truly tested himself before. Someone ought to do it.”
“Ainder!” Gnaeus tsked. “Look at him! He’s going to boil over if you keep this up.” She stroked Ethyr’s hair. “Don’t worry, we won’t let Ainder be so rough with you.”
“Who said I’d be rough?”
She rolled her eyes. Gallus entwined himself with Ainder and distracted him anyway.
The others returned to various activities as though nothing had happened.
Ethyr shuffled up to the table next to Gnaeus, but Varuut insisted she sit with him, so he moved, until Ithna complained that Varuut always kept him to herself, so at Ithna’s urging he sat between her and Gnaeus.
He didn’t mind. The both of them only kissed him occasionally.
When Gnaeus did, it was just a few kisses over his face, while Ithna kissed him softly and lovingly on the mouth.
The atmosphere settled. Varuut nursed Catocus’s bruised ego, Ithna and Gnaeus discussed what sounded like a human dispute they knew about, Langath drew quietly at the table, and Ainder and Gallus wrestled playfully.
Ethyr glanced over his shoulder. Kiaro was sitting cross-legged on a seat, flipping a glass game piece between the fingers of one hand. He met Ethyr’s gaze coolly and Ethyr quickly turned back around.
A lull in Ithna and Gnaeus’s conversation compelled the former to take up Ethyr’s face and smatter her lips over his cheeks and nose.
“Ithna?” he whispered. She pulled back to look at him, surprised. He realized it was the first time he had said one of their names out loud. Not that he’d said much of anything else either.
“What is it, sprout?”
He blushed. “Do you keep up with humans? Their lives?” She and Gnaeus certainly seemed the most grounded in human norms.
“I try to. Though sometimes I feel that I blink and a whole new set of them are in place.”
“But you can go into the mortal world, right? Show yourself to humans?”
“Yes… though unlike Varuut I prefer to take the shape of a mouse, and no human is the wiser.”
Ethyr might have known that from the stories, though all the gods took so many different forms it was hard to say what preference they might have had.
“What about Linwood Village? Have you been there?”
The sudden, stark silence was palpable. Every god had stopped to stare at him. The back of his neck pricked and he fought the urge to hide.
Ithna cupped his face, drawing his attention back to her.
“Let’s not talk about that,” she said gently, and kissed him.
Her lips were soft and moved against his with perfect ease as she caressed her thumbs over his cheeks.
She let go and Varuut pulled Ethyr into her lap and kissed him too, which was interrupted by Catocus dragging him to his lap and kissing him, forcefully deep.
When he leaned away Ethyr was too disoriented and breathless to remember what he had been talking about.
“What’s this?” Ethyr felt Catocus’s hand at his ear.
“Earrings,” he said sheepishly. “Do you like them?”
“No.”
Ethyr closed his mouth.
“So impractical. Someone could rip them right out and rip your ear with it.”
He covered his ears reflexively.
“Oh, stop it,” Langath admonished. “This isn’t a battlefield. It’s no less practical than all the other ways humans decorate themselves.” She smiled at Ethyr. “I like them. Mortals never stop finding new ways to make themselves works of art. Which you most certainly are.”
His flushed face warmed further. Catocus’s fingers slipping between the side-ribbons on his tunic weren’t helping. He kissed Ethyr again, without pause, and Ethyr slowly lowered his hands from his ears to curl his fingers into the front of Catocus’s tunic.
The grip incited the god to dip Ethyr back, rubbing a hand down his side, over his ass, under his thigh, adjusting Ethyr’s position as he did so to be seated more fully in his lap.
Ethyr gladly accepted Catocus’s tongue in his mouth, surprised by how much he wanted it.
Wanted this. With guards stationed all around his room, especially below his balcony, he didn’t dare do anything remotely scandalous while alone.
His body ached for pleasure, for intimacy.
He had missed the touch of hands on him too, warm and sculpting.
Then Catocus lowered him to the floor, dragging his hands up Ethyr’s thighs to grip the back of his knees as he wedged between them.
The memory of a similar touch leapt his heart to his throat, strangling his breath.
He yelped and pushed instinctively away.
Catocus lifted his torso, looking down at Ethyr.
“Did I hurt you?”
Ethyr pressed his hands over his mouth, staring wide-eyed up at him and not knowing how to respond.
“Dammit, Catocus, I just promised we wouldn’t be rough with him!” Gnaeus said.
“I wasn’t being rough!” Catocus snapped back.
“Straddle him.”
Everyone, Ethyr included, stared in disbelief at Kiaro. It was hard to tell if he noticed, his attention on the cards in his hand. After a second he looked up.