Coda
Julian halted before the dingy cottage door, and twisted his hands together.
This was the day. This was the day he had been dreading for many, many moons now. The day they came for the orc.
For Rurik’s new… lover.
“No need to scent thus, elskan,” Rurik murmured beside Julian, stroking a flicker of light and colour into his back. “He will please you, I am sure.”
Julian might well have laughed, for he already hated this orc. He had hated him since Rurik had first spoken of him. The hidden Ash-Kai healer in the north. The brilliant prodigy Rurik longed to wield, to own, to keep. The next powerful offense in the battle Rurik wished to win.
And Julian had known this, when he had reunited with Rurik, after all their empty summers apart.
He had known Rurik’s great plans. He had known Rurik would not offer him fealty.
He had known of the brilliant healer, and the woman Rurik wished to gain next.
And he had thought he could bear it all, in trade for having his beloved herra once more by his side, in his bed, shining upon him with pleasure and power and life.
But then Rurik had left Julian behind, for a full fortnight.
And when he had returned, grim but satisfied, he had borne the brilliant Ash-Kai’s strong scent all over his hands, his mouth, his tongue.
And Julian had not known how to face it, could not yet face it, even as he now sank closer into Rurik’s side, into the flickering magic of his touch.
“Peace, elskan,” Rurik said, pressing a soft kiss to Julian’s hair. “You shall see.”
But Julian did not wish to see. Did not wish to see Rurik’s hand rising up, rapping on the door before them. Did not wish to meet this prodigy, this clever wondrous genius, this wielder of power and healing and magic, of everything Julian was not.
There was a muffled thump from beyond the door, but naught else, and Rurik rapped again, louder this time. Leading to another thump from beyond the door, and what sounded like a strangled curse.
“Coming!” called a rough, exasperated voice, followed by something that might have been a crash. And more thumps, a dragging sound, a shudder of the wooden door before them, and…
The orc. Sweeping the door open, and glaring toward them.
Julian blinked, for the realm’s great healing prodigy was…
a mess. His long black hair was tousled and tangled around his head, his bare grey chest was spattered with dried blood, and his torn, rumpled trousers hung low and loose off his hips.
His grey skin also bore many deep, ragged scars, even on his face, and he leaned his full weight on his left leg, for his right leg was strangely twisted beneath him, as if wounded, or broken.
“Oh, fuck, it’s you,” the orc snarled, harsh enough that Julian flinched backwards.
But the orc was frowning at Rurik, his thick black brows drawn together, his mouth hard.
“I told you last time, I have no fucking interest in your grand plans and promises. I barely made it out of that stinking city alive, and I never want to go —”
But Rurik fully ignored all this, and stalked straight past the orc into the cottage, tugging Julian along behind him. However, Julian had not expected the sudden movement, and he tripped on the raised doorframe, and — curse it — reeled straight toward the messy, snarling orc.
And though he fought to catch himself, it was as though the gods themselves were conspiring against him, defeating him breath by breath.
Hurling him forward into the orc’s big, solid body, which the orc had not been expecting, either — and his twisted leg buckled, his full weight pitching backwards, his hands clawing for purchase, but finding only Julian instead.
And together, they crashed back onto the solid wooden floor, the impact juddering through them both, chattering Julian’s teeth, wheeling the room around them.
The orc had borne most of the impact, and beneath Julian, his breath wheezed, his bare chest heaving. And Julian heaved too, his shaking hands clutched to the orc’s skin, whilst shock and misery and chagrin swallowed him whole.
“Ach, I am — so sorry,” he gasped, and he made to shove backwards, away from the orc’s solid bulk. “Please, forgive me. I hope you are not harmed, I could not bear if you —”
But only then did he follow that he was not moving away, for there were strong hands on his back, holding him in place upon the orc. Not only the orc’s hands, but… Rurik’s.
“No, stay, elskan,” Rurik ordered, low but commanding. “I will check you both for wounds. Deep breaths.”
His hand stroked his familiar shimmering reassurance into Julian’s back, but Julian yet trembled, and glanced with rising alarm toward the orc’s scarred face beneath him.
But the orc looked pained, and dazed, wincing as he shifted beneath Julian, and slid a big warm hand up Julian’s back, toward his head, his face.
“You’re not wounded, are you, Ka-esh?” he murmured, as his hand stroked at Julian’s cheek with surprising softness. “Why do you feel like pain, then? And fear?”
Julian blinked down at him, whilst Rurik huffed beside them, and spread one hand to the orc’s head, the other to his shoulder. “How have you gained new wounds, since last time?” he muttered, under his breath. “No wonder you can scarce stand up. No, do not move.”
Beneath Julian, the orc rolled his eyes, but his hand was yet stroking Julian’s cheek.
His touch felt warm, and yet so gentle, and Julian gasped at a sudden flicker beneath it, both familiar and foreign.
It was the orc’s healing, his magic easing into Julian’s skin, but it was not cool and shivery and pointed, like Rurik’s.
No, it was soft, and seeking, and… expanding.
A deep, fundamental rightness, a peace, pooling across Julian’s cheek, into his head, his thoughts, his heart.
His rapid breaths slowed, his panic settling, his weight sinking heavier into the orc’s solid bulk beneath him. And the orc’s other hand had begun healing too, oh gods above, seeking with such soothing warmth into Julian’s back, stroking the last of the fear and tension away.
“There, that’s better,” the orc murmured, with a relieved exhale, as his hand spread wider against Julian’s cheek, spanning his jaw. “You all right now, Ka-esh?”
Julian slowly, cautiously nodded, shifting his face against the orc’s hand, feeling its still-seeking magic skitter beneath his skin. Ach, it felt good, and Julian’s smile stole over his mouth, slow and grateful. “Much better,” he murmured. “I… thank you. Most of all when you are the one wounded.”
The orc wryly smiled back, shaking his head in obvious dismissal.
Whilst the room around Julian stuttered again, for this orc was…
handsome, beneath all the rest. His smile was quick and easy, his jaw square, his nose straight, his mouth expressive and full.
And his eyes spoke only of kindness, and sympathy, and concern, and he was yet healing Julian, touching him with both hands, flooding him with such warmth and peace.
And when Julian’s hand slowly found the orc’s face in return, tracing with strange, stilted gentleness at his scars, he felt something else, quivering into him beneath the orc’s hands.
Something that was echoed by a soft but distinct swell in the orc’s trousers, nudging up thick and hungry against Julian’s groin.
Against where Julian’s own loins had begun stirring, also.
Julian’s face heated, and he glanced sideways toward Rurik, who was yet kneeling beside them, healing the orc’s shoulder.
But a small smirk curved at Rurik’s mouth, his gaze briefly catching Julian’s, and Julian might have stared at him, or cursed him, if not for the way the orc’s wondrous hand had begun sliding downwards, curving gently over Julian’s arse in his trousers.
And when Julian met the orc’s eyes again, he looked rueful, and resigned, and mayhap a little amused, also.
“So you’re the Ka-esh he spoke of, then, are you?” he asked, with an exasperated flick of his eyes toward Rurik. “Julian, wasn’t it?”
Julian smiled and nodded, and his hand kept unaccountably stroking the orc’s scarred face. But he could not find it within him to stop, not with the orc’s wondrous hands still touching him also, and speaking of not only warmth and peace, but now of such sweet hunger, also.
“Yes,” he murmured back. “And you are Thiakon of Clan Ash-Kai, are you not? The greatest healer in all the realm?”
He had never before spoken the orc’s name aloud, mayhap fearing it would grant the great healer yet more power over him. But in this breath, he would gladly give the healer all he asked, most of all when the healer chuckled thus, and shook his head.
“Is that what he’s been telling you?” he said, with a snort, and another disbelieving glance toward Rurik. “Sorry, Julian, but you’re about to be deeply disappointed. And please, call me Thiak.”
Thiak. Julian smiled again, and he could scent his own amusement, his own fondness, curling through the air between them. Thiak, the deep disappointment, and such a sweeping, wonderful relief.
“But you will still come to the city with us, will you not, Thiak?” he murmured. “And help us?”
And ach, that was Rurik’s cool sparkling magic, dancing with such pride and approval into Julian’s back, twining together with Thiak’s ever-deepening warmth. For Rurik knew Thiak’s answer, before it was even spoken, and Julian knew it, also.
“Fuck,” Thiak said, with a sigh, and a smile that lit up the room. “Yes. I suppose I will.”