4. Chapter Four #2
So like a nex, neither one nor the other. But a light entered Viau’s eyes.
“No one else will do for you,” he remarked to Rafi or to himself, then reached out to take one of Rafi’s wrists and draw Rafi’s hand to the side of his neck.
He kept it there with a hold as firm as the one he had on Rafi’s aer.
“Did you believe I didn’t want to?” His thumb pushed against Rafi’s wrist, then stroked back and forth until Rafi squirmed.
Viau’s gaze would not leave Rafi as Rafi shifted and leaked and whined. “Why would you ever think that?”
“Aedis is pleasurable to miné,” Rafi insisted, meaning that it would be pleasurable for any miné to agree to help any struggling nex. But those words got lost on their way to his mouth. “You smell so good.”
“Ah.” It was a sigh. “Do I?” Viau tugged Rafi’s wrist up to his mouth and his nose to breathe in deep.
“They say that too, that scent matters more to those near aedis. But to my nose, you smell like clouds dark and heavy with rain. Yet you kneel here, suffering in this orchard when there is somewhere else you might be.” Rafi shuddered at the damp, hot breath on his skin.
Viau’s gentleness made it worse. “Will you allow me to make you feel better? Will you grant me that honor?”
Flower-letters brought to life. For Rafi. Rafi didn’t understand.
“Worrying again,” said Laure or someone who sounded like him.
“What is it?” Viau was the one who seemed to coo, stroking a lank curl from Rafi’s forehead, then pausing to trace the freckles on his burning cheek. “What worries you, storm cloud?”
“I didn’t think I’d be aware of this part,” Rafi admitted slowly, wondering if this counted as a part of aedis, this petting.
“If you ever spoke to me,” he added, then was caught off guard by the sweep of Viau’s thumb over his lips.
They parted on a moan before Rafi fell forward to hide against Viau’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
Viau shifted slightly, then draped something heavy over Rafi’s bent shoulders. “If you still wish it, I can help you to an isolation room.” He brushed more curls from Rafi’s temples. “But if not, I’d like to assist you.”
The living heart of him was so close. Rafi pushed forward, bodily and with his aer, and shivered as this was denied because even the denial felt good.
Viau held it all and wouldn’t let go. “I can feel your aer,” Rafi revealed to him in a whisper, his heart thrumming behind his ribs.
He burrowed into his hiding place and rumbled for the strokes up and down his back.
Katoh would have told him to name the purr for what it was.
“Can you?” Viau did not sound angry with him, or confused, or frustrated.
He settled the weight better over Rafi’s shoulders and continued to brush aside Rafi’s errant curls as if nothing pleased him more.
“Do you like that?” The whisper brushed the shell of Rafi’s ear. “Feeling me as no one else can?”
The sound that filled the orchard was a whine and it came from Rafi. It roughened to a growl, then faded to merely his panting breaths. “Please.”
In answer, Viau was soft. “Then I will help you to my room, pretty Rafeli.”
Another hand landed on Rafi’s back as if to help him stand, then swiftly disappeared.
“Sorry,” Katoh said again. “Habit.”
Viau’s arms tightened around Rafi and then Rafi was on his feet and gasping at the feeling returning to his legs. He wasn’t permitted to fall, so he stayed curled into Viau’s side as he caught his breath. Viau fussed over him. That was how it felt, like Rafi was coddled and cared for.
He looked up and Viau clucked his tongue when their eyes met. He slid his fingers into Rafi’s hair and Rafi let his head drop and submitted to more of such touches and fussing. It seemed right to touch Viau in return, although Rafi’s hands were clumsy.
“If someone would instruct the kitchens to leave some food outside my door in a few hours, you’ll have my gratitude.” The order was a rumble to Rafi, plastered to Viau’s body. “But I believe that’s all we’ll need now. Unless the storm cloud has more to say?”
Someone laughed. Laure, probably. But he wasn’t Rafi’s concern.
Neither was this storm cloud, whoever that was.
Viau’s hand was in his hair, and Rafi was so hot, trapped in heavy clothing, too much of it damp.
He allowed himself to be led away, but only to keep the pretty scent close, and so the fussing would not stop.
He pulled away once, possibly twice, to stare up at Viau.
Viau stopped each time to stare back, eyes intent on Rafi, hands busy straightening the cloak on Rafi’s shoulders or smoothing sweaty curls from his face because Rafi’s hair would not even obey Viau di Ruzé.
It did something, that look or the petting, because then Rafi would fall forward again, shuddering with another wave of heat and Viau would hold him through it and make it worse with promises.
Up these stairs, he said apologetically, and Not far now, and Look at you. Who would ever refuse you anything?
Then the world was quiet and Rafi was settled onto a soft surface that smelled so much of blossoms and salt that he closed his eyes and panted so that he would feel the scent on his tongue.
But that wasn’t allowed. A cup was pushed into his hands, then taken from them when Rafi wouldn’t hold it. Viau held it to his lips instead and tipped his chin up for him.
“Drink, please, Rafeli.”
Rafi swallowed cold, clear water until the cup was empty and then was given more.
His face burned for that, though he couldn’t have said why.
He wasn’t child to need such care, but no protest left him.
His eyes came open when he finally had his fill, and he watched with displeasure as Viau crossed the room, headed away from him.
The room was larger than Rafi’s shared room with Cambray.
A window was cracked, offering light and cool air.
That was all Rafi cared to notice as Viau finally returned to him except that Rafi was seated on the edge of a bed, which had blankets and hanging curtains that spoke of luxury and finer tastes.
His feet barely touched the ground; Viau’s bed had plump, plentiful mattresses.
Rafi startled, some clarity returning as he thought of the dirt and mess all over him and tried to stand.
Viau was suddenly directly in front of him and frowning, although that ended when Rafi flinched.
“None of that, either, storm cloud. Not for you. Unless you wish to leave now?”
Rafi slowly thought that over, or at least attempted to, sinking back onto luxurious bedding and tangling his hand into one hanging curtain of clean linen.
“Dirt,” he managed. “Wet.”
“Ah. You do worry, don’t you, little one?”
Rafi was not little. He made a face.
Viau cracked a smile, but quickly smoothed it away. “Shall I take care of the dirt for you? No,” he went on, “there is no point in asking you now, is there?” He cleared his throat. “I will take care of you as those eyes have been begging me to.”
The gentle voice made no sense. Neither did how he dropped to his knees, until he began to work on the laces of Rafi’s boots.
“Very concerned friends you have, Rafeli. Speaks well of you,” he remarked as if Rafi were capable of answering, hands hot on Rafi’s ankles and feet and then on his knee to hold him still because Rafi had squirmed.
“Rafi.” Rafi had to sound out his own name as if it wasn’t his.
“Rafi?” Viau looked up to ask, smiling slightly. The smile faded when Rafi reached down to touch the corner of his mouth.
“Rafi,” Rafi said again, firmer, because his name was sweet in Viau’s voice. “Please.”
Viau swallowed. Rafi moved his fingers to the front of his throat though he couldn’t catch the movement.